


Shoot to Kill

by pablorewind



Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: After a lot of denial, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Angst, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Eventual Smut, Kinda, M/M, Mark pretends to be an asshole, Mutual Pining, Nice safe consensual sex, Slow Burn, all that good stuff, but actually he's a big softie, spy AU, the major character death isn't Ethan or Mark dw lol
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-09-02
Packaged: 2021-03-03 11:13:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 12
Words: 43,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24470029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pablorewind/pseuds/pablorewind
Summary: Welcome to the world of MI5, the institution which prides itself in its claim of being one of the most secure government intelligence services in the world.Except that's not what Mark Fischbach gets to see. He got stuck doing the dirty work for esteemed Oxford university graduates who didn't understand what it was like to be the person behind the gun- knowing that the person you're shooting has a family, has a life.The last thing Ethan wanted was to be a spy, an agent, an operative, whatever you call it. He had plans to go to college, make friends, pursue the career he's always wanted rather than putting his life on the line for a job where a single mistake could lead to your inconvenient demise. Surrounded by a world he seems to have no control over, he's beginning to think that freedom is more of a pipe dream.Maybe working in the secret service isn't all everyone makes it out to be.
Relationships: Mark Fischbach/Ethan Nestor
Comments: 113
Kudos: 256





	1. Don't Get Too Comfortable

A thick layer of dust clung to his finger as he swiped it across the windowsill. At least a few months' worth, if Mark were to guess.

'Are you sure we're in the right place?' Mark turned to the man beside him, also crouched below the window, using his hand to balance against the wall so that he didn't have to kneel among the used cigarettes and dried up gum that littered the rather unsightly pavement. It was pretty well suited to the also unsightly building they were breaking into, located on some unassuming alleyway in Hackney- not his favourite part of London sure, but from his experience the kind of place where not many people looked twice at the large duffel bag you were carrying through the streets. Probably not expecting it to be filled with seven different types of guns, and several other tools that came in handy for jobs like this.

Sean chuckled, rifling through their bag, dull metal and plastic clunking together, blue eyes flashing as he looked up at Mark. 'I doubt internationally recognised fugitives often felt the need the experience a nice breeze. No wonder it's dusty.'

Mark rolled his eyes as Sean passed him the crowbar, slotting it underneath the haphazardly and carelessly nailed-to-the-wall wooden board that was covering the window, gently prying it open, the weak wood quickly splintering under the force, leaving them with a decently sized gap.

Mark was well aware that this wasn't what most people thought of when it came to working as government spies- hell, even he had expected to be sitting in one of those important-looking black leather chairs, tapping away at some fancy computer on the 39th floor of MI5 headquarters, or out in the field, reading secret messages with UV lights and breaking into vaults with laser pens. He was mildly disappointed, to say the least, when he found out that most of that giant building was a facade- or at least only used for administrative purposes, which kind of made sense considering its location was public knowledge.

Most operations and departments were located underground, or in more inconspicuous places- yes, complex-looking computer servers and corkboards covered with webs of red threads often made an appearance, but it was usually in storage cupboards at tube stations, or the apartment above your local kebab shop. Places you'd never think to look. And while he'd been to his fair share of casinos, extravagant parties, and evil villain "lairs", most jobs were more like this one- baggy, paint-stained hoodies, baseball caps to cover your face, in some dingy alley that smelled a little too much like piss for comfort. 

Mark sunk back down, back pressed against the wall as they both listened for any sign of movement. After a second Sean shifted, rocks underneath him crackling slightly as he peered into the window, hand positioned carefully on his gun in his holster, scanning what he could see of the inside.

'Looks clear.'

Mark grabbed his flashlight with one hand, the other reaching back to check for the pistol shoved behind in the waistband of his trousers, watching as Sean hoisted himself up onto the ledge, turning sideways to fit through the gap and landing gracefully with a soft thud on the other side. Mark followed suit, brushing off the wood splinters that had snagged his jumper.

Their torches cast shadows into the room, the beams outlined by the dust that hung in the air, the staleness of it drying out Mark's throat. He held back a cough and Sean sent him a knowing and amused look, both of them quickly scanning the room- a couple armchairs covered in yellowed sheets with the bug-eaten holes and stains to match, and a burnt-out fireplace, brick hearth covered in ash and soot. He placed his gloved hand over it but it was dead cold. Not that anyone would light a fire in the _middle of fucking March_ anyway.

Sean moved into another room, Mark taking the door to his left, the sound of their boots on the wood echoing throughout the house. Mark brushed a cobweb that clung to the door frame, stepping into what looked like the kitchen- wooden cabinets streaked with mould, peeling wallpaper, plus an unpleasant sour smell that told Mark that he probably didn't want to open the fridge. He could feel the way his breath stirred up the stagnant air, his surroundings stock still until he made the first move. Checking the cupboards- careful with any that were large enough for a person to fit in, he found nothing but a few empty food boxes, with a couple bags of pasta and tinned vegetables. The sell-by dates indicated someone must have been living here in at least the last couple of months.

Something cracked under his foot and he froze at the sound, almost deafening in the drowning silence the whole house was submerged in, lifting his foot gingerly to see a shard of ceramic crumbling beneath it, a shattered plate no doubt.

His earpiece crackled to life, Tyler's voice loud in his ear.

_"Alright, looks clear. You can let them in."_

Mark had to stop himself rolling his eyes, stepping out of the room. _He'd forgotten about that part_ . Sean looked at him from the doorway he had come through, and Mark could tell he wasn't thrilled about the idea either, an amusing _don't we deal with enough shit?_ look written all over his face. Sean cocked his head, motioning towards the hallway that led to the door, the small camera clipped to the side of his cap blinking red. 

Mark swallowed back the sarcastic remark in his throat and strode wordlessly down the corridor towards the door, unhooking the chain and pulling it open to be faced with the two agents they'd been forced to babysit, loitering outside like sitting ducks. They were dressed professionally; the guy-no, he didn't know their names- in suit and tie whereas the girl had opted for a pencil skirt and heels ( _seriously? heels?_ ) and Mark could only imagine the weird looks they would have gotten strolling through this neighborhood, half surprised they hadn't got mugged.

As soon as they'd stepped inside the man pulled out a pistol from underneath his jacket, and Mark could clearly see that it hadn't even been loaded. _Fucking idiots._ With a quick glance back at Sean, who was attempting to hide the smirk on his face, Mark handed him a clip of ammo from his pocket, hoping the moron could figure out the rest for himself.

Idiot 1- as Mark decided to affectionately refer to him as in his head- looked rather generic- a forgettable kind of face but also one you felt like punching, his suit creasing with complaint at being outside a cushy office, black shoes shined so much Mark wouldn't be surprised if he could see his reflection in them- the kind of shoes that cost more than he was being paid for this job, and the kind that made conspicuous, betrayingly loud clicks when they tapped on the floor. The woman- looking also as if she were dressed for a business meeting rather than a breaking-and-entering- had manicured nails that were fiddling with her necklace nervously, and Mark would almost feel sorry for her if he'd not suffered the briefings she led back at head office; her naivety and complete ignorance towards the work they did really shining through there. Her look was completed by a pen in her top pocket, because when someone's shooting you the first thing you have to do is take notes. He couldn't decide which one to hate more.

In reality, he was more mad at Tyler for sending them out here. People like this just didn't belong in the field. Now they were his and Sean's responsibility, lives in their unwilling hands.

It was hard to believe that they were higher up operatives than him and Sean, and although they spent most of their time in an office far, far, away from the action, Mark still expected them to be able to load a fucking gun. Wasn't that something they taught everyone who worked at MI5? Wasn't that something they should be expected to know considering their pay grade was probably double someone like him? Either way, he didn't see the need for their presence- Tyler had told them it was just for "collecting information" but that was an easy enough task for him and Sean to manage by themselves.

He stalked back down the corridor to Sean, hoping that the other two had at least enough decency to stay out of their way. 

_You go down,_ Sean mouthed to him, pointing to reinforce his words.

Mark gave him a swift nod and watched him disappear up the stairs. He glanced at the other two who were still hovering in the doorway, seemingly listening to orders through their earpieces. How much instruction did someone need to go take some pretty photos?

He let out a breath of irritation as he descended the stairs into the basement, willing himself to remain calm because all in all, it didn't really matter. They would get this job done and he could go home and take a nap. Hopefully on the next mission he could convince Tyler to let him and Sean go alone- they weren't just colleagues, they were _best friends_ , and it certainly showed with how well they worked together. And how much they detested anyone else they had to work with.

He shook off his thoughts as the first downstairs room came into view, a couple of emptied wine racks lining the walls, some cardboard boxes strewn beside them. Enough spider webs to make an arachnophobe squirm- whoever had been here hadn't taken much care in the cleaning department, leading Mark to assume it was a temporary situation. 

Gently, he pushed open one of the two doors that stemmed from the main room, wincing when it creaked but nothing around him stirred. Stepping into the darkness, he fumbled on the wall beside him for a light switch, flicking it, and after a couple of seconds filled with a reluctant buzzing, a bulb dangling precariously from a cord in the centre of the room flickered on.

_'Don't get too comfortable; the door was locked from the inside, remember? It would be strange if no one was home.'_

Mark ignored his instincts which were telling him to switch off his earpiece, instead giving the room a once over. It wasn't that he _disliked_ Tyler, he just didn't _l_ _ike_ him. Or his annoying voice.

The majority of the room was taken up by a surprisingly sturdy-looking table in the centre, files and documents stacked neatly in cardboard holders, with a few sheets scattered across the table- typed but with what looked like hand-written annotations- a few pens and pencils gathered in a mug, and a charging cable, still plugged into the socket as if its respective laptop had been hastily taken- seems like whoever was here left in a hurry considering they didn't even have time to clean up. Or, maybe they were planning on coming back. Mark reached out to collect any of the papers that seemed important but was stopped by Tyler's voice.

 _'Leave them- I'll get one of the others to bag them up. Check the rest of the floor_ _first.'_

Mark bit his tongue against a satirical "Yes sir" that threatened to spill out. He felt like he was a fucking trainee again with how controlling mission control had been with this whole assignment. He understood- or had at least been told- that this was a high-stakes kind of operation, but it wasn't like him and Sean had ever messed up before. If Tyler could barely trust him with something as simple as a quick raid, Mark couldn't even imagine how irritating he was going to become later down the line. From the limited overview he'd been given it looked like this was going to be a long one- at least six months of work to "neutralise the threat" as A had put it, plainly.

After a quick scan for anything he might have missed, he entered the last remaining room on that floor. It looked like a bedroom, if you were using the weak sense of the word, a few manky blankets and pillows littered around, bundles of clothes discarded as if someone had just stepped out of them and into the flattened mattress in the corner, which had a few too many stains to be considered sanitary, and Mark could even see a coil of wire jutting out at one end. Not exactly luxury accommodation.

An open door led to a bathroom- with what definitely looked like mould festering on most surfaces- probably a result of the single showerhead placed in the inconvenient spot next to the grimy toilet, which no doubt coated the room with water on the odd occasion it was used. He could see his own face in the cloudy mirror, a surprising lack of disgust on it since you tended to get used to this sort of thing after you've been in the business for a while. He took a quick note of the discoloured, holey towel and the scatter of bloody fingerprints that were smeared across the porcelain sink- he, or one of the others- would probably take samples later, not that it would be much help since the people they were after tended not to have DNA in any sort of database yet.

After hearing Tyler for so long, it was a relief to hear Sean's voice crackle in his ear, and the lowness of it Mark assumed he hadn't finished checking his floor yet.

_'Hey uh, Mark? There's some weird shit you might want to take a look at up here, when you're done.'_

Mark crouched, peering his head underneath the sink to check for anything stuck there- you'd be surprised at how often things were stashed in bathrooms but he was obviously unlucky this time. It wasn't often that Sean called him up in the middle of the search, so he didn't really know what to expect.

He pressed down the button on his earpiece to reply, the soft _click_ resounding in his ears.

'Yeah, I'll be up in a sec, just finishing off down here. Seen anyone?'

He stood up, brushing the dust of his knees.

_'Nope. Looks like whoever was here caught word we were coming. Left a lot behind though, so they couldn't have had long.'_

Mark wrestled open the side cabinet- a little obvious, but who knows? Maybe these people were more stupid than he thought. He was met, however, with nothing interesting- a couple razors and an emptied box of paracetamol. Oh, and an ugly looking spider that scuttled away from the light of his torch. He sighed, Sean may have found something interesting but if they didn't get anything major soon then this whole mission would probably have been a huge waste of time. Plus they didn't have many other leads left.

His footsteps trod softly on the cement floor as he made his way into the other room, nudging at the piles of clothes and sheets with the butt of his gun. Lifting up the mattress to find nothing underneath. He was starting to get a little bored if he was honest, but he didn't want to miss anything out, the house eerily silent as he paced and searched the room. He was checking behind some of the peeled wallpaper when a gunshot reverberated throughout the house.

 _Someone was here-_ unless one of those idiots had accidentally fired a gun.

Moving swiftly but carefully to the staircase, a second gunshot caused him to curse and speed up- _definitely not an accident then._

He scanned the first floor when he reached it but it was empty and he immediately proceeded up the next staircase but was halted by a man's voice, slightly muffled through the walls.

'Stop moving! Keep your hands where we can see them.' 

'Yes, they are, they fucking are!' Someone, he assumed one of the people who had been in residence here.

It was followed by deathly silence.

The first voice wasn't Sean so he assumed it was idiot 1, slowing his pace so he couldn't be heard- careful to avoid the centre of the stair which he had learnt the hard way was the most likely to creak. He was sure that Sean had the situation was under control- except for what he assumed was the woman agent dead or at least shot at, judging by the fact he hadn't heard from her yet- but he didn't want to walk in and startle them, risk endangering the situation. Plus his position probably put them at an advantage, in case whoever it was decided to run.

The stairway led to a turning, so he couldn't see anything that was going on, but he felt his heart spike at the sickening sight of blood splatters on the wall to his left-enough blood to suggest a death, or at least a fatal injury, which only confirmed his suspicions. His heart pounded as he neared the top, not quite high enough to see what was going on, grip on his gun tightening.

A woman's voice rang out through the floor, only trembling slightly. 'Don't think we won't shoot.'

_Which only left..._

It took him a second to recognise the body slumped against a doorway, head down, but unmistakably the victim he wrongly presumed was impossible. Red, wet fabric clung to his stomach, beginning to pool on the ground around him, one bloody hand pressed to his abdomen, the other to the side, a loosened grip on his pistol.

Swearing loudly he rushed over, not giving a flying fuck about the mission or the consequences of doing so, pulling up his jumper to find the entry wound, just below the bullet-proof vest he had been wearing, applying pressure to it while feverishly attempting to remember his first aid training. 

He soon found out that his efforts were useless as Sean's head lolled back, revealing the second bullet that was planted firmly between his eyes.

Mark couldn't count the number of times he'd seen a dead body. Couldn't even count the number of times it was him who'd taken the shot. He'd seen heads blown apart by all sorts of guns, mangled bodies dismantled and spread around a room, hell even things worse than that. He'd seen more than his fair share of blood and brain and guts, but he'd always managed to keep his cool, ignore the part of him screaming that _fuck, that was once a living human being_ , but this, gaping hole dead centre on a forehead, his friends blue and glassy eyes still open and staring past his shoulder, this was what had him retching dryly onto the floor. There was no need to check his pulse.

Sean _didn't get_ shot, ever. He never messed up, never turned his back, was never unprepared for a situation. Mark could probably count the number of times he'd been injured on one hand, and even those weren't fatal, and mainly in situations where Sean risked himself to protect someone else. He was perfectly capable of shooting someone three times dead centre on their chest before they even had a chance to lift their gun.

Yet here he was, nauseatingly hot blood pooling in his hands, skin paling as all the warmth flooded out of him and onto the floor, no doubt dripping through to the ceiling below. The man he never thought to protect lying bloody and lifeless and part of Mark's brain thought he could almost be asleep, ready to wake in just a few hours. But he certainly wasn't going to and it was far too late to do anything about it.

The shot to his head must have come second, judging by the fact that it was what killed him, and his lack of response after the first shot could be explained by shock, or panic- but nothing could explain how someone had managed to shoot him in the first place. Sean, with the best reflexes he had ever seen and Sean who could shoot a bullseye on a target with his eyes closed, with years of training and experience to _not get shot._ It made no sense, although he couldn't really trust what his muddled brain was thinking right now. He hadn't even begun to think about the part of the situation that involved Sean being fucking _dead-_ and that ignited something uncontrollable in his brain.

Blinking and slowly regaining some of his senses, he turned to look into the room, where a man was standing opposite the two agents- who had their guns out and pointed at him. A sly smile adorned his face, as if he knew so much more than all of them did, inky black hair framing his face, dark eyes looking straight at Mark with so much certainty and fucking _amusement_ , and Mark didn't take too long to memorise the details of his face before raising his gun and shooting at him blindly from his kneeling position on the floor, eyes blurred with tears and hands shaking but he was too mad to care, anger flooding and fogging up his brain. He was pretty sure he was missing all his shots judging by the sounds of his fire blasting straight into the wall, but he didn't stop, couldn't.

He didn't see where the fucker went, but he noticed the other agents rushing on his trail, and then the sounds of breaking glass. His brain couldn't catch up fast enough to think about following them, dropping his gun with a sickening thud to the ground. The hand that was still pressed to Sean's stomach was getting colder, stomach-churningly so, as less and less heat radiated off the body below him. The _corpse._

He stared blankly into his eyes, feeling clammy and too hot and emotionless. Emotionless but also like he wanted to tear at the walls, batter someone to death, smash the man who had done this into a million little pieces.

His mind couldn't come to terms with the fact that the man he was staring at was dead, not just a man but his _friend_. His best and only friend, who had been with him since day 1. The one he couldn't do anything without. The man who was once a boy he met at 16, both scared to death in a new environment but trusting each other implicitly. _As thick as thieves_ his instructor had joked. The boy who shared his lunch with him when he forgot to pack his own. Playing football with him after school. Playing video games online together for hours, lying when his parents asked him who it was because he'd been told he wasn't allowed to tell.

The man who had helped him through the training years once they'd left school, studying together in the library, cheating off each other's tests because they knew as long as one of them knew it then it was fine. Because they were never going to do this alone. The man who trained with him every day, encouraging him as he unloaded round after round of bullets into targets, running every lap with him, watching every assessment he completed.

Sean, whose blue eyes would flicker with mischief when they snuck around headquarters late at night. Whose every expression he could read in a heartbeat.

The man who'd been with him on his first mission, and his second, and his third. Helping him overcome the guilt of his first kill. Having his back every time he messed up. Being a supportive and utterly irreplaceable partner in every way possible. And also being the person he cared about most in the world.

Sean who had his whole life ahead of him, and who Mark still had so much to learn from.

His earpiece had long been discarded on the floor next to him, Tyler's squeaky voice barely audible through the vibrations on the floorboard. Probably blaming him for failing the mission but he couldn't care less. He bet Tyler didn't even care- could easily imagine him describing this as inconvenient, a tax on company resources, _more paperwork._ He was beginning to think that no one in this whole goddamn institution knew what emotions were anymore. He'd certainly been taught to forget about them- taught that they were only complications, excuses to fail assignments, _weaknesses_. If someone could get to you then you'd already lost the game.

He had no doubt this situation would be the same. He'd go back to head office and they won't even mention it. They'll erase his file, cover up his death, and that'll be it- a whole, living, breathing person forgotten just like that. That's what they were best at after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here it is! I've spent so long planning this (since before I finished Red and Yellow!)- my plan is almost long enough to be a chapter in itself :,) I really hoped you enjoyed the opening chapter, there is certainly more to come...  
> I'm going to try and post 1-2 chapters a week, as these chapters are longer and I have lots of schoolwork to keep up with too, but I'll try and make up for it in quality (as always, constructuve criticism is welcomed and appreciated).  
> Quick question, how do you guys feel about me using OCs from Red and Yellow? I've put them in the first few chapters I've written because I kind of missed them, but with different ages and stuff obviously.  
> Also my search history has taken a battering writing this- the amount of research I've done on MI5, guns, and that kind of thing :,)  
> Anyway, thank you for reading and I'd love to know your thoughts on this!


	2. Stay in School, Don't do Drugs

Ethan _hated_ planes. Not just a casual, _oh, planes are kind of annoying_ , or a distaste for a long haul flight, but he _detested_ them. He hated the gross metal toilets with the overly aggressive flush (like what that even _about_ ?), or the excessively harsh lights that always left him with a killer headache- oh and don't even get him _s_ _tarted_ on the pathetic excuse for food they served. He hated when the person in front of him tilted back their chair as soon as the plane was in the air, leaving it there for the rest of the flight, or when the people behind you decided to bring a fucking baby, or- god- when the crew announcements interrupted your in-flight movie.

He hated being surrounded by people he didn't know- chatting, snoring, sneezing until their germs festered all over the place. He hated the rattle of the seats when they would go through turbulence, the way his stomach stirred up at the motion, not wanting to end up curled over himself hurling into the paper bags they so thoughtfully provided in the seat pockets.

As luck would have it, he was sandwiched between two obnoxiously loud chewers, as he'd recently found out when they handed out the trays of food just a few minutes ago- a service he'd politely declined, instead digging out a cereal bar from his backpack. If he could tolerate the aeroplane toilets or he dared to bother the person next to him, he might have gone to the bathroom right about now, but unfortunately, circumstances did not permit- instead, he sat staring ahead, munching on his Nature's Valley™ granola, not caring too much as crumbs pooled in his lap, unable to look out the window or stretch his feet out into the aisle.

Two years ago, he probably could have counted the number of times he'd been forced to endure a flight on one hand, but times had changed. Now he was being flown all over the place and honestly that was probably one of the worst things about it. Working for the CIA, that is.

He wondered how surprised the people around him would be if they found out this 19-year-old nobody watching Big Hero Six in the seat next to them actually worked for the government. Hell, it even surprised himself- never did he think he'd be competent enough to work for anyone, let alone the _government of the United States,_ being shipped around the country like a lost amazon package, but here he was- hating every second of it.

It all started a couple of years ago, when some stupid 17-year-old and his friends thought it'd be funny to hack into the government website. He'd always had a flair for computing and that kind of thing, finding obscure loopholes in messily programmed code and convincing different companies to hire new cyber-security staff. It'd never really got him into trouble before then, always relatively careful to cover his tracks, set up a VPN, switch out his NIC with a friend's after a particularly risky joke. But that time he'd taken it a little too far- it was more than just information you could get from a Wikipedia article on that website, and Ethan in hindsight probably should have seen it coming.

The next morning he'd woken up to a nice email letting him know that the government had received his little message, pointing out a few of their security flaws, but instead of being pissed, they asked him to come work for them, fix them himself. It was the kinda thing you often saw in movies, or read articles about in the news, but Ethan never expected it to happen to him. A 17-year-old offered a job in the _fucking CIA-_ yeah, the one you only saw in _movies_. At first, he thought it was spam, someone phishing him to get his Social Security number or something, but he checked out the email address and it was legit. He probably should have assumed that an email back detailing his refusal of their offer wasn't going to cut it.

You see, as much as sitting in the same office every day mindlessly typing at a computer appealed to him, he wasn't even an adult yet- still in school, figuring out his career, aspiring to get somewhere in the film and media industry, as ambitious as it sounded. He had hopes and dreams, to put it cheesily, plus a couple more years to spend at home with his family and school friends before he planned on moving out of state. He even had a couple of gymnastics competitions coming up, ones he'd been training for for years- and he'd finally made it past regionals. Plus, he had his dog Spencer to look after, so in the end it was a hard pass for him.

Except the government didn't seem to like that, sending a follow-up email letting him know the consequences under normal circumstances for hacking into a private website. You know, fines of thousands of dollars, a permanent criminal record, time in juvie, all that good stuff. So, in the end, he really didn't have a choice- he was going to have to leave everything behind either way. It was funny how school had preached; stay in school, don't do drugs, but in reality, it was the sitting alone in his room every night finding new ways to entertain himself that got him in the most trouble of all.

It had never been a fantasy of his, not even as a kid, to be some sort of high-tech spy, cool-laser guns and that shit just never really interested him. Shouldn't they be hiring those kids that loved to shoot you with Nerf guns in the playground? Or the ones that liked cracking codes, reading all those books about encryption? Or anyone who _actually_ wanted to work there?

Of course, he had to lie to all his family and friends, saying he was going on some sort of STEM program in another state, get his parents to sign of false documents the government had so generously provided, lying through his teeth when they asked why he was suddenly so interested in Science and Technology. Locking his door at night so no one came in to find him crying into his pillow, get suspicious about where he was _actually_ going. Watching his friends get stressed over exams, auditions, extra credit while he could only sit there and pretend to feel the same. _Jealous_ because _f_ _uck_ what he would give to feel that again. What he would give to not have to drop everything and leave in just a few months, not knowing when he was coming back.

He remembered losing friends soon after he'd left because he couldn't tell them what he was doing, where he was, avoiding blatant lies but also avoiding the contact needed to maintain healthy friendships. His parents called him less and less, as he always seemed to be busy, ending their calls early so they wouldn't notice the way his voice wavered when he told them he loved them. It was harder and harder to say every time, not because it wasn't true but because it _hurt_ , not to be able to see them, hug them, tell them how much he wanted to just _come home,_ until the words got caught in his throat whenever he tried to say them, never to leave his mouth and never to fall upon his ears.

It was hard to care about someone who had seemingly lost interest in you, and Ethan guessed that's what he seemed like on the outside, what they gathered from the limits of hearing his voice through the phone.

He sometimes wondered about what they thought of him, their son that disappeared into the abyss.

He felt like he'd been forced to grow up so fast, learn to be independent, live alone, buy his own food, do his own laundry without his mother telling him the correct settings to use for different clothes. Dealing with off-coloured shirts because he'd mixed up colours and whites. Getting fined because he'd never learnt how properly to manage his finances. Living of tinned food and pot noodles because he was scared of burning down his flat. He just never realised adult life would be so _l_ _onely,_ unable to make any friends when he was moving cities every other month. The only thing he had learned was how to fit all of his belongings in an adequately sized carry-on.

First it was San Diego- probably the longest stretch he'd spent somewhere- developing a cyber-security software for about 6 months. He was given basic, standard working for the CIA training- self-defence, how to fire a gun, what to do if you're kidnapped and held at gunpoint for sensitive information, etc.

He'd made a couple of friends in his department there, but he never got the chance to meet many others, not trusted to know the ins-and-outs of everything since he was a new recruit. And even those friends he hadn't contacted since he left. After working hard on that, countless nights spent tap tap tapping away on his company-issued laptop in his dingy apartment downtown, even creating a snazzy little logo for it, he found out it wasn't even going to be used. A 'test project' they'd referred to it as, to monitor his abilities, one they ended up selling to third-parties, with Ethan getting a juicy 0% cut of the profit. He'd only wished they'd told him sooner, and then maybe he wouldn't have lost so much sleep over it.

He hadn't so much as given up after that, just lost a little motivation, which was probably why he ended up in new departments all the time, fixing little mishaps and errors in codes he wasn't even allowed to know the full purpose of, whoever seemed to be in charge of him moving him from place to place in the hopes he'd settle somewhere, make himself useful for more than three months. It was a bit late to kick him out now, as much as he'd love to go back home to Maine, to his parents that probably didn't remember his face, his laugh, _him_ anymore.

He was in Washington when he was informed that the UK had requested him to be transferred over to them. The fucking _MI5._ Next thing he knew he'd be James Bond, hopefully. Although he _really_ didn't want to get a British accent. 

The more he thought about it, the more it terrified him. Sure, travelling around the US was one thing, but a whole 'nother motherfucking continent? Some island in the middle of god knows where? (Europe, apparently). A country where he knew no one, nor where he was, not even the _laws-_ what if he got _m_ _ore_ arrested than he already was? Did he need healthcare? Or a visa? Who the fuck knows?

He'd declined but it wasn't like his lack of consent was even a consideration anymore, and they only replied with a copy of his plane tickets. No other information, nothing about what he'd be doing, his rights or health and safety information. He hoped they'd have enough decency to tell them about his peanut allergy.

He sighed, picking at the loose threads at the end of his bracelet. Movement flashed on the screen in front of him, lights dancing and shifting but he wasn't really paying attention anymore. He leaned forward to switch it off, button clicking softly under his finger- his head was throbbing, exhausted and tired of thinking as he tipped it back, resting on the back of his seat as he stared up into the blinking symbols above. The seatbelt light flickered on and the grip on his armrests instinctively tightened, preparing himself for the anticipated onslaught of turbulence. Did he mention how much he _loved_ planes?

-

Stepping off the aeroplane was, quite literally, a breath of fresh air, his legs aching after 8 hours cramped between two seats. He stifled a yawn with his hand, blinking as his eyes slowly adjusted to the incandescent lights that weren't doing much to help his headache. Nor was the drowning sound of hundreds of suitcase wheels and shoes on the tile floor. Fumbling for his phone in his back pocket he checked for the time.

17:47.

He was starving after the flight so that gave him good time to go get something to eat somewhere. Except he quickly realised that time differences were a thing, so in reality it was nearing 11. Great, just great.

He continued to border control, with electronic voices instructing people which way to go, crowds weaving in and out of guided queues. Ethan joined a disappointingly long line for non-EU citizens, sighing as he sat back onto the top of his suitcase- legs tired already as if he hadn't just spent half the day on his ass. He scrolled through social media whilst mindlessly shuffling forward when the queue moved, looking through posts from his friends. Most of them had just finished their first year in college, posting photos of Summer parties and holidays, with their new friends, new girlfriends, hell one of them was already engaged. Everyone had told him that university years would be the best of his life. He'd certainly believed it, yet somehow he'd managed to skip that whole part of his life, moving onto the whole "being a responsible adult" thing.

When he made it up to the desk at the front he showed the woman there his passport, not really sure how everything was going to work since he didn't have any documents or anything, but it's not like he would complain if they just sent him straight back to America. _Another free pair of plane socks!_

She scanned it, reading a message that popped onto her computer before gesturing him to the side. One of the uniformed officers came over and she said something to him, Ethan not really listening in just following as he was beckoned away. He felt like he should probably be scared, being led to one of those frosted glass rooms you always saw people be taken off to, but he didn't care that much, just wanted to go home and take a nap.

He was led into a waiting-room looking area, a couple of chairs lining the walls, hallways stemming off with decisive and important looking people strutting through them.

'Mr. Nestor?' An apathetic man behind an administration desk asked him.

Ethan nodded, and he gestured for him to take a seat.

'Someone will be with you shortly.'

And then he was back at his computer, leaving Ethan to choose one of the uncomfortable looking chairs. His leg bounced anxiously, pulling up twitter on his phone- a go to for awkward situations like this.

Footsteps coming towards him had Ethan looking up from his phone and a man dressed sharply in a pressed suit, blonde curls and a bright smile held out his hand.

'Nice to meet you, I'm Noah.'

Ethan shook it, standing up, and tucking his phone in his back pocket. 'I'm Ethan.'

The man chuckled, his pristine teeth catching in the light, 'I know. I'm here to settle you in. Come on, Kathryn's waiting outside with the car, I'm sure you'll love her.'

He glanced at the man behind the desk to check he knew what was going on and that he wasn't just being dragged off by some random stranger, but he looked unfazed. Ethan gripped the handle of his suitcase tightly, dragging it behind him as he followed along.

Noah, seemingly knowing his way around this strange place, led him through a series of corridors, passing by a security gate where he showed a guard a card hanging from his belt. It all felt very official and professional, which was funny because Ethan had absolutely no clue what was going on.

He zipped up his jumper when he saw that they were approaching a door to the outside- even in fucking July it looked cold and gloomy, and the ground was glistening with puddles. Sure enough, they stepped outside into a heavy drizzle, although the drone of rain on the pavement was a nice relief from the deafening silence of the room he'd been waiting in, a sign that life did, in fact, go on even when you felt like you were losing your mind. He tilted his head back and a few droplets caught on his cheeks, sky grey and unforgiving as it decided to soak the world around him. _Pathetic fallacy much?_

It looked like they had come out of some sort of back entrance because the road was deserted except for a singular black and impressively shiny car that Noah was making towards. He helped Ethan load his suitcase and rucksack into the boot before slamming it closed, gesturing Ethan to get into the backseat.

He slumped into the cold leather, running a hand through his now slightly damp hair.

'Hi, you must be Mr Nestor.'

The voice startled him slightly but he quickly realised it had come from the driver's seat, where a woman who looked around the same age as Noah- maybe early twenties- glancing at him in the rearview mirror. It was kinda weirding him out how they were both weirdly young, since it wasn't often in America that he'd find people close to his age but he shrugged it off. 

'Ethan's fine.'

She gave him a bright smile, 'I'm Kathryn.'

Kathryn looked friendly enough, dark hair swept back into a ponytail and thick glasses, dressed with similar formality to Noah, making Ethan feel a little underdressed in his hoodie and jeans but he didn't own anything smarter- he was never really expected to wear work attire in his previous posts.

Noah joined them, sliding into the seat beside Kathryn once he'd walked around the car, and she kicked it into gear.

'So, how was your flight?' She asked, glancing at him a couple of times between driving.

'Good.' He lied, pausing. 'Where are we going?'

'Headquarters. Westminster.'

Ethan nodded like he had any clue where that was and Noah continued, 'That's where you'll be staying for now. Due to your situation, we can't allow you off-site without supervision for at least the first month.'

He sounded apologetic but Ethan understood- his _situation_ as they like to put it was that he wasn't working for the CIA by choice, so he guessed they were scared of him running off or something. Starting off a new life in London with his 0 knowledge, 0 qualifications, and enough money to support him for about a week.

Noah cleared his throat, looking a little awkward, 'Anyway, we'll take you to your room and then we'll pick you back up tomorrow. You've got a mission briefing at 8 so we'll take you to that.'

'I'm part of a _mission_?'

Kathryn glanced back at him, 'They haven't told you anything?'

Ethan shook his head.

She hummed. 'I don't know much but by the sounds of it you've been put on this team to help them with cyber-security or something? You'll find out more tomorrow I guess.'

Ethan swallowed, unsure of how to feel. It was exciting to finally be doing something _meaningful_ , actually being helpful for once by the sounds of it, but at the same time he felt so overwhelmingly unprepared. In his whole time working for the CIA he'd never actually been expected to do anything serious, or anything with consequences if he fucked up.

Noah spoke up again, 'You'll need training too- that's where we come in. Kathryn will be teaching you pretty much everything you need to know, so don't worry, and I'll be doing your physical assessment.'

Ethan frowned, remembering how even the few hours he'd spent "training" in the CIA were some of the most boring in his life- when was he ever going to need to fire a gun? He was a programmer, not Austin fucking Powers. It all just seemed a little redundant to him. 'I've already had training back in America, so I might not need any.'

Noah raised his eyebrows, glancing to Kathryn beside him. 'We'll see.'

Ethan decided not to comment, instead leaning his head against the car window, watching as the streetlights zoomed past and lit up the backseat of the car. They both asked him a little about his jobs, interests, all that polite small talk, but it didn't take long for their conversation to die down, which Ethan was grateful for, probably sensing that he was exhausted.

It wasn't just the flight, it was the past few weeks catching up with him. See with the whole "two weeks notice before you're moving out the country" thing, his brain hadn't gotten much of a chance to catch up with everything that had gone on, and he'd sort of been on autopilot the whole time he was packing up his apartment, clearing his desk at work. He realised that his parents weren't even aware of the fact- for all they knew he was still in San Diego, earning some sort of engineering qualification. He wondered if anyone would tell them if he died or something, but figured they'd find out eventually.

That's what was on his mind when he drifted off to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Really hoped you enjoyed this chapter, and I know I've written a lot before they even meet but I just wanted you to get a chance to know them first :)  
> I'm currently about two chapters ahead (in case life gets busy I want to keep a regular-ish posting schedule) and I've already written them meeting, so I'm excited for you guys to read that.  
> As always, support and criticism is always appreciated, and I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe <3


	3. Speak of the Devil

Ethan sat perched on the edge of his bed, staring at the blinking light of the digital clock. 7:47. He'd woken up maybe an hour or two ago, probably from jet lag, and had hunted around for food- thankfully finding a vending machine down the hall which served him a nutritious breakfast of a packet of cheese and onion crisps and a diet coke- but he didn't want to venture any further, not really sure where he was allowed.

From the looks of it he was in some sort of accommodation block, as he'd seen numbered doors lining the corridor outside, and he'd probably think it was a hotel of some sort if he hadn't seen the rest of the building last night. Or this morning, _technically_. Not that he'd been paying much attention- Noah had taken him swiftly through the building and into an elevator before he could look too much into it, and he doubted he'd be able to use an elevator to get anywhere else without some sort of security clearance.

His room was ok- just a bed and ensuite, but he hoped he'd be moved somewhere more permanent sometime soon. Somewhere with a kitchen, preferably. One benefit was the view, he guessed, as his window looked over the city- better than brick wall his old apartment looked out on- and he only hoped he'd get a chance to enjoy the city whilst he was here, although he doubted that would be the case.

A soft knock on his door had him jumping up, lack of anything interesting to do in the small room starting to get to him, and he almost tripped on the clothes spilling haphazardly out of his suitcase on the way over to unlock the door.

Kathryn was on the other side, smiling brightly at him and holding a cup in each hand, one extended out to him.

'Coffee?' She paused, 'I wasn't really sure what to get you since I'm more of a tea person myself but I thought coffee was a safer bet, since you're American and all. Is that stereotyping? Sorry, we can swap if you want, I don't really mind.'

Ethan blinked, brain catching up with her rant, 'Coffee's perfect.' He smiled, gratefully taking the hot cup from her as he grabbed his key from the side table and joined her in the hallway.

She beamed, and Ethan could easily see them becoming friends, a feeling he hadn't felt in a while considering he'd never really put in an effort to talk to people when he would most likely be gone in two months.

'Alright so we'll have to be quick if you want to get to your briefing on time,' She started down the corridor, Ethan following along, scanning her card that she wore on a lanyard around her neck at the elevator door, 'Remind me to get you a card later.' She commented stepping in and pressing one of the buttons.

Ethan nodded, a little nervous. 'Do you know who will be there?'

Kathryn hummed, 'I know Mr Scheid is leading the operation, but I'm not familiar with anyone else on the team, sorry.'

They stood in silence for a few seconds, the soft whir of the elevator accompanying, and Ethan felt his stomach lift slightly as the elevator slowed to a stop, dinging quietly as the doors opened.

'You'll be fine.' She gave him a small smile which he returned, following her out.

'Thanks.' He mumbled, glancing around nervously as they approached one of the rooms that lined the hall. The door was frosted glass, so he couldn't see much inside, and Kathryn scanned her card and pushed it open, motioning for him to go in.

The room was relatively small, a projector to the side and three people sitting behind a desk with two empty chairs on the other side.

'Good luck.' Kathryn whispered as he passed, and when he turned around she had already gone, the door slowly closing.

The middle one spoke up, a curly-haired man dressed sharply, his expression neutral. 'Ethan, please take a seat.'

'I'm Tyler, head of this operation,' He continued, gesturing to a woman to his left, who had a pointed face and an unnerving look in her eye, looking slightly bored of Ethan was honest. She spared him a brief glance before going back to whatever she was doing on her laptop.

'That's Eliza, she oversees the management of this and a few other related cases, and to my right is Louis, who heads the team. You'll meet them later but they've already had this briefing.' Louis, on the other hand, looked a little more friendly, cropped black hair and warm eyes, sparing him a genial smile, which is more than he could say about the other two.

He glanced at the clock, 'Mark should be here soon but if you have any questions I can answer them before we begin.'

Ethan fidgeted restlessly in his chair, many questions flooding his head but most didn't really seem professional, or were the kind of questions that would surely make him look stupid. He took a sip of his coffee, more grateful for the distraction than the taste.

'Uh, who's Mark?'

Tyler drummed his fingers on the desk, 'Oh he's just a field agent, you'll be working alongside him. He missed the briefing with all your other coworkers.' He cleared his throat, glancing at the clock. 'He's a little... you'll get used to him.'

Ethan didn't ask what he meant, deciding instead to let the room sink into a rather uncomfortable silence. Of course, they didn't seem as uneasy as he was- it always seemed like important people just never felt awkward for some reason- Eliza busying herself with something on her computer, Tyler sorting through some of the documents on his desk, clicking his pen in his left hand as he read over them. Louis had a laptop too, but he was looking around the room, sparing Ethan a small smile. 

He almost wished Kathryn had "dropped him off" later, even if it would have made a bad first impression.

'Speak of the devil.' Tyler muttered, glancing past Ethan to the glass door. Ethan turned to see a silhouette on the other side, opening it.

The man stepped inside and Ethan could see his face more clearly. He was surprisingly young- maybe early twenties- a deep green fitted jumper rolled up to reveal strong forearms- benefits of fieldwork, Ethan presumed- and he ran a hand through his raven hair, seemingly agitated already. He tucked his key card into his back pocket, and through the air of confidence he had around him, Ethan sensed a little nervousness.

Tyler sighed, 'Mr. Fischbach, you're late.'

He didn't reply, dark eyes flickering to Ethan for a second before taking a seat.

'It's nice of you to join us.' Eliza added, a sickeningly sweet and sarcastic smile on her face, tilting her screen down as she focused on the matter at hand.

'I've already had this briefing.' He spoke gruffly, and the lowness of his voice sent a shiver down Ethan's spine- it was nice having co-workers that weren't antisocial 40-year-old recluses who would only talk to you about the latest Star Wars movie, but this one seemed kind of intimidating.

Tyler only looked amused, tone dripping with fake affability. 'There have been a few new developments since you took leave three months ago, so I'd appreciate it if you could spare the time in your, I'm sure, _very_ busy day to listen to them.'

He didn't respond, instead cocking his head to the side, motioning to Ethan without looking at him, 'Who's this?'

Tyler glanced between them. 'That's Mr Nestor. He's a new addition to the workforce. May I begin?'

The man- Mark, Ethan assumed- didn't say anything, just leaning back into his chair. Ethan swallowed thickly, unsure as to why he was so nervous.

'Very well.' Tyler picked up a remote from beside him, and when he clicked it the projector flickered to life.

'Ethan, welcome to Atreus. We're the task force assigned to locate dismantle the network of the international terrorist group, Ares.'

Ethan quirked an eyebrow slightly at the fancy names, but didn't say anything. He'd never been a part of something that was so... _like a James Bond movie?_ It seemed a little pretentious to him, he felt a bit like they were just glorified police officers, but oh well.

'We believe that Ares are in possession of sensitive information, which we need to retrieve so that it doesn't fall into the wrong hands. That is the main aim of this operation, but we are also trying to identify and neutralise as many Ares personnel as possible.'

Ethan tried to remain focused, but could they _be_ more vague? We need to retrieve sensitive information, real generic. Was this briefing meant to make him feel more confused? Because that's sure what it felt like.

His eyes glanced over to the PowerPoint presentation, where a logo was displayed- a helmet with a spear through it. _A crime organisation named after a Greek god? How creative._

Tyler continued to explain some of the information they had on them, as well as brief overviews of the operations they had already carried out.

'Our last mission involved breaking into a suspected Ares base of operations, where we recovered some _barely_ useful documents and also a man- we have now identified him as Finn Carter, who according to our files resides in Italy and recently fell of the grid. We know he is a key figure in the organisation.'

The slide changed to a photo, rather grainy but definitely enough detail for Ethan to recognise the man if he ever saw him. The long, jagged scar on his left cheek was rather cliche for a villain, Ethan thought, and his pale skin contrasted jarringly with his inky black and unkempt hair that just about brushed his chin. His hooded eyes stared directly into the camera, mischievous and cunning, and perfectly matched to the smirk that adorned his face.

'Unfortunately, as you know Mr Fischbach, he was allowed to flee the scene.'

Ethan glanced over and saw Mark's jaw clench, but the man remained silent, eyes pointedly fixed on the screen and not at Tyler.

'Along with him went our last solid lead,' Tyler continued, 'We've managed to scour up a few flimsy locations but your mistake set us back almost six months, so I hope you can understand, Mark, why it's so important that you cooperate rather than going off and doing your own thing.'

Ethan flinched as Mark stood, slamming his hand down on the table. Ethan's- thankfully empty- coffee cup clattered to the ground.

'You know _full well_ what I was fucking doing, Tyler.' He spat, leaning back, clenching and unclenching his fists. 'I thought you'd have the decency or at least the common sense not to bring this up but I guess I was wrong.'

The room was silent, Tyler unmoving- just watching Mark's reaction. Mark was watching him back, as if he expected him to say something in return, but obviously gave up on that idea quickly.

'Fuck this, I'm leaving.' He muttered, turning to go do just that but was halted by Tyler's voice, hand still on the doorknob.

'If you do that I'm afraid we'll have to fire you, Mr. Fischbach.'

Ethan saw him hesitate, mulling over Tyler's words, before lowering his hand from the door handle. His eyes flickered around the four of them, before settling on the coffee cup on the floor. Slowly, he picked it up, setting it down on the table as he returned to his seat, the sound echoing in the tense atmosphere he had created. Ethan was curious, but he sure as hell wasn't going to ask- and he still wasn't sure what to make of the guy.

It was silent for a second before Ethan cleared his throat, 'Uh, if you don't mind me asking, what do you need me for?'

Tyler regained his posture, 'Glad you asked, Ethan.' He sent a final warning glance to Mark before continuing. 'You see, we know that Ares own some remote servers in Germany, and access to these servers would certainly help with our investigation, or may even be enough to take Ares down completely, depending on what sort of data is stored there.'

He paused, eyes searching Ethan's.

'I'm well aware that we have plenty of people capable of this, plenty enough to you be completely redundant under normal circumstances, however, when attempting to get into the servers we discovered something that might look a little familiar to you.'

The slide switched over to a new photo- and Ethan recognised it instantly, his brain trying to make sense as to why he was seeing it _here._

'What? That's...?'

Tyler nodded briefly, 'Turns out when the CIA were selling off some of their excess software, they weren't too careful on thoroughly investigating _who_ they were selling it to. Correct me if I'm wrong Mr Nestor, but I believe you were the key programmer assigned to this project?'

Ethan nodded hesitantly. unable to deny that the logo displayed on the PowerPoint was in fact the one he created for his security software. He could see Mark watching him out of the corner of his eye, curious.

'So to answer your question, _that_ is what we need you for. You know the code better than anyone else so I'm assuming you'll be able to help us out.'

Ethan hummed, unsure. 'I purposely programmed it to _r_ _esist_ all the methods of attack I'm familiar with, because y'know, I didn't exactly expect... this.'

'Well, I guess you have a lot to learn.' Tyler ignored his concerns, 'We'll give you two months to get trained up before we start the operation, and that'll give the rest of the team some time to sort out their leads. Is that good with you Louis?'

The man nodded, opening up his laptop.

'Good, well I think that's everything for now, and Ethan- I know you're probably not keen, but I think you'll come to like fieldwork.' He mentioned nonchalantly.

'Fieldwork?' Ethan repeated back incredulously, eyebrows raising.

Tyler glanced back at him as if he was clueless. 'Yes, that's what Noah and Kathryn are for. We'll need you to have direct access to the servers.'

_What?_ Ethan's mind was racing- first they sent him out here against his own will and now they wanted him to risk his life? _Fuck_ no. Surely they can't just ask people to do this? Don't you need years of training and skills and _competencies?_

Finally his mouth caught up with his brain, voice raising. 'You can't send me out- I've never done anything like that, I-'

'That's what you have Mark for.' Tyler cut him off, bored.

'What?' It was Mark's turn to be shocked, suddenly joining in on the conversation, 'I'm not working with _him._ I'm not working with anybody, and you bloody well know that Tyler.'

'Oh come on Mark, be reasonable, you can't work alone forever. Just because Sean-'

Mark stood up so fast that Ethan flinched slightly. 'Don't even _say_ his name, I swear I will fucking-'

'Mr. Fichbach, please calm down,' Eliza interjected.

'No, I will _not_ calm down. Don't you remember what happened last time you let untrained people on a job that _requires_ training? Do you fucking remember Tyler?'

He didn't respond, and that only seemed to worsen the situation. Mark's glare burning into Tyler and honestly Ethan wasn't sure how he was taking it.

'Fucking _answer_ me _._ What, you think you can replace him like it's no big deal, huh? How can't you see how stupid this is? He's fucking-' Mark turned to face him, the sudden eye contact making Ethan's stomach flip nervously. 'How old are you?'

'Nineteen.' Ethan muttered, eyes flickering between Mark and Tyler. He really did _not_ want to get involved in whatever this was.

'He's fucking _nineteen,_ Tyler- that's not even old enough to do fieldwork. He's had _no_ training and he's gonna get fucking killed. Is that what you want? You want someone else to fucking die? Because that's what it seems like.'

'He won't get killed if you do your job properly.' Tyler stated after a second, Louis looking extremely uncomfortable and awkward beside him whilst Eliza just glanced at her watch.

Mark stood stock still for a second, glaring directly so hard at Tyler Ethan thought he might just burst into flames. 'I'm not doing this.' He muttered angrily, storming out.

The room was tense, silent except for the ticking clock on the wall, before Tyler spoke up again, this time to Ethan.

'Don't worry, I'll talk to him.'

'I don't want to do this.' Ethan blurted out.

Tyler sighed, 'We'll make sure you're trained properly before we send you out. Some of the stuff Mark said was a little... _overdramatic._ We wouldn't ever put any of our agents in more danger than necessary.'

'Can't you find someone else? I really don't want to-'

'I'm afraid you don't exactly have a choice, Ethan. Unless you want to lose your job and we can send you back to America.' He paused, 'I'm sorry, but there's really nothing I can do.'

He didn't say it but it was implied- Ethan still had criminal charges to work through. Losing his job would mean facing that. Somehow, Tyler didn't seem that apologetic.

'Surely you can find someone else. I can still help you, I could... talk to them and stuff, tell them what to do. I don't have to go out-'

Tyler cut him off, 'I don't have time for this right now- any questions you can ask Kathryn, she'll be in charge of you for the most part.' He turned away dismissively, talking to the other two. 'Liz, you have a meeting with A, right? Inform her of the situation, and Louis can you take Ethan downstairs, there are some forms Kathryn will help him with.'

Louis nodded, glancing apologetically at Ethan whilst packing away his laptop.

'Alright.' Tyler moved his hands to his knees, getting up out of his chair, 'That concludes everything, Ethan we'll introduce you to the rest of the team tomorrow.' With a brief nod to the others, he left the room, Eliza quick on his heels. 

Louis cleared his throat, grabbing his case and gesturing Ethan to follow him, 'Sorry about that, I know it can seem harsh but it's a tough job. It'll be worth it in the end though.' His kind smile relaxed Ethan a little, plastering one on his face in return. It seemed that no one had informed Louis that he didn't even _want_ this job.

'You'll like the others,' He continued, leading Ethan to the lifts, 'On the team- they're really nice.'

Ethan just hummed, nodding absent-mindedly, mind still grappling with the whole _he was definitely going to die_ thing.

'Oh and don't worry about Mark. He's... nice, really. And good at his job- you're in safe hands. You'll be fine.' He gave him a quick grin, and the elevator doors opened. Ethan stepped in after him. _He sure hoped so._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops, sorry for making Tyler such a dick, I love him really. Hope you enjoyed this chapter and them finally meeting! Trust me there's a lot more to come :)  
> Any contructive criticism/support is always appreciated, and it's always so nice reading comments as they motivate me to write. I hope everyone is doing well <3


	4. I'm Not Here to Make Friends

The first person he saw when he entered the room was Mark, sitting on one of the chairs that lined the walls, elbows on knees, not even looking up when they entered the room. Kathryn stood awkwardly nearby, still holding her cup from earlier, giving them both a relieved smile when she saw them.

'Wow, Louis it's been _ages_.' She pulled him into a brief hug with her spare arm.

'Too long.' He agreed.

'I haven't seen you since... well the promotion! How's the high life treating you?' She teased, poking him.

He laughed rather stiffly, 'Good, good, y'know... long hours.' 

Louis trailed off and it was silent for a second before he cleared his throat.

'Well, Ethan, it was nice meeting you, looking forward to having you on the team.' He grinned, nodding at Kathryn before departing.

Kathryn shot a confused glance at his back as he did before refocusing her attention to Ethan, shifting slightly as she spoke. 'Noah's just gone to fetch some forms and schedules and stuff for you and uh...' She glanced to the man in the chair a few feet from them, 'Mark. For some reason they all got lost so he's gone to reprographics to get them redone, but he should be back any minute. How was the briefing?'

'Uhh...' Ethan trailed off, unsure of what would get him in trouble. Tyler didn't seem like the kind of boss you wanted to piss off.

'Interesting?' She suggested.

'You could say that.' He chuckled half-heartedly, wishing there was something to occupy his hands, fiddle with or drink or anything to ease the tension.

She frowned a little, smile not faltering, 'Good interesting or bad interesting?'

Before he had a chance to answer the exact person he wanted to arrive did. _Saved by the Noah_. Even Mark glanced up at the sound of his approach.

'I didn't get lost!' He started, grinning proudly, 'Although I think I found a completely new area of the building I had no idea existed.'

He flicked through the small stack of paper he was holding to offer the top half to Ethan, 'These are for you,' his gaze flickered over to Mark, giving him a polite smile and extending his arm with the remaining paper. 'And these are for you. Guess I'll be seeing you and Ethan tomorrow.'

'Thanks' Mark mumbled, standing up to retrieve them, but not returning Noah's smile.

Mark started to leave but for some reason, unthinkingly, Ethan's mouth not even consulting his brain in the slightest before doing so, he blurted out a 'Thank you' towards the man he had just met.

'For y'know,' he continued, regretting his decision instantly, 'standing up for me back there.'

Mark considered him for a second, and Ethan saw his jaw tighten slightly before; 'I was only doing it because I don't want to work with you.'

Ethan frowned. Yeah, he'd just made the situation weird, _really_ fucking weird, but he had just _thanked_ the guy and not really done anything to deserve that comment. 'You don't even know me.'

His tone switched from defensive to irritated. 'I don't have to. I'm not here to make friends so just stay out of my way.' He stalked off, and Ethan would find the stroppy teenager act annoying if he wasn't so damn intimidated by the guy.

'Wow, he's kind of a dick.' Kathryn muttered, and it was funny to hear something so _rude_ coming from her considering she was normally so bubbly and sweet.

'Do you guys know him?' Ethan asked, turning back to find them both looking at him.

Noah shook his head, 'No, not really, but I knew Sean and he seemed to like him. Don't know why.'

 _Sean._ That was the man Tyler mentioned in the meeting. The one Mark got so worked up about. Ethan couldn't help the way curiosity got the best of him.

'Who's Sean?'

Noah grimaced slightly, 'An old agent. He died a few months ago on a mission. He worked with Mark, which probably explains his behaviour. I doubt he's that much of a twat under normal circumstances, but who knows.'

Ethan nodded, glancing away. He couldn't help but feel bad that Tyler had forced a partner on Mark, considering the situation, but then again it wasn't like it was Ethan's fault. Then again, he couldn't really blame someone for the way they act in grief. Was that really what it was? From the way Mark reacted in the meeting it certainly seemed to matter to him, and it made Ethan dread the situation he'd been put in. Wonder how easy it would be for all that anger Mark had managed to direct to Tyler came his way. Replacing someone's dead friend was the last thing he wanted to do.

-

The first thing he had the next day was the physical assessment. He was led to the gym, wearing clothes Noah had lent him since he didn't own anything suitable. He really needed to go out and buy some clothes, since he was beginning to feel as though he'd under packed a little, but he wasn't going to be allowed out without supervision for a while, even though he'd gotten his ID card yesterday afternoon most places were still off-limits, although he was considering convincing Kathryn to go with him. Or maybe Noah, except he always seemed to be busy with training.

It seemed like he was one of the only trainers, as when they entered the gym it was completely empty, and although Noah had informed him that they had a few smaller gyms on-site, mainly for personal use, he was surprised to be the only one there. They entered into the main section- a hall that had markings on the floor for some sort of sport- whether it was basketball or tennis Ethan didn't know- but most of it was covered with mats, benches, and other contraptions that looked like a kind of obstacle course; ropes tied to the bars on the ceiling, ramps and tall bars, tyres laid out on the floor, that sort of thing.

Off the main room Ethan could see a glass window that revealed a smaller room with treadmills, rowing machines, and a few other things, as well as some doorways that led to what he imagined would be a changing room and toilet.

'Well, this is it.' Noah twisted off the cap of his water bottle, taking a swig, 'Don't worry, it's less scary than it looks.'

'If you say so,' Ethan muttered, still scanning the room.

'You'll learn to love it,' Noah grinned, 'We'll sort out your training schedule after today but chances are you'll be spending a lot of time in here over the next couple of months.'

He hummed, looking back at Noah. His confidence was reassuring, sure, but Ethan was still uneasy about the whole situation. Not that he had much of a say in the matter anyway.

The doors swung open and Mark walked in, dumping the bag that was swung over his shoulder by the lockers. His shirt was tight enough to show off broad shoulders and toned arms, and Ethan swallowed nervously, hoping that they didn't expect _him_ to reach that level of fitness, because that wasn't going to happen in two years, let alone two months. Also it wasn't very reassuring to know that Mark could smash him into the ground and knock out a few of his teeth any time he wanted, considering everything he knew about the guy.

'Mark, how're you?' Noah grinned brightly as the man approached, stopping a couple metres short of them.

'Fine.' He replied curtly, far from hostile but not necessarily friendly either- just neutral.

Noah shifted slightly awkwardly, turning back to Ethan with his hands on his hips, 'Right so, Ethan this is more just to see where you're at, gauge what we need to work on and that sort of thing, completely informal so don't worry.' He gave him a reassuring smile before turning back to Mark, 'And you've requested an assessment, am I right?'

Mark nodded, 'Next week.'

'Ok good, that gives us plenty of time. Since you've been inactive for over 3 months you'll need reassessments in everything, not just physical, so I'd talk to Kathryn about that. I'm actually running a firearms class later today with Ethan, so I can ask an assessor to come to that for you if you want to get that one over with.'

Mark nodded again, 'Thanks.'

Noah nodded in return, 'Right. Ok. Well we'll do you first Mark, since you'll be quicker. Ethan, you can go have a seat if you want- oh wait, actually...', he trailed off, looking around before grabbing a pen and ripping off a page of a notebook from his bag, jotting something down. 'Could you go to Sandra's office? That's the floor and number,' He handed the paper to Ethan, 'Just ask her if I can get an assessor in my lesson later today, she'll be able to find it on the system. Oh, and take my card just in case you need clearance somewhere.'

Ethan took it and left, glad to be free of some of the tension that was building up in there. It wasn't exactly unbearable, but it just seemed like Mark was pretty good at making people awkward, unsure. Noah was one of the most outgoing people he'd met, from what he could tell anyway, and if _he_ had a hard time talking to them how the hell was Ethan meant to manage? He scanned the floor directory, noting a cafe which he made a mental note to check out, as well as the closest gym to his room which might come in handy, and didn't surprise himself with the amount of time it took him to find this Sandra's office. Which was, expectedly, a long time with many accidental detours.

When he came back Mark was bent over, hands on knees catching his breath. He saw Noah go to place a hand on his back instinctively but paused, thinking better of it. It was nice to know that Ethan wasn't the only one slightly scared of the guy.

'We preferably should get your lap time down below 10, just to be safe. Also make sure you're pacing yourself properly, since you slowed down at the end quite a bit, which brought up your time quite a bit, but other than that, good.'

Mark nodded- Ethan was beginning to learn that he wasn't so much the talkative type- and straightened up, noticing Ethan watching them both.

'Ethan, did you find her ok?' His eyes moved over to Noah, who was smiling at him brightly.

'Yeah, just got a little lost.' He chuckled, moving over to the chairs to sit down.

'Good, thanks. We've got pull-ups, pushups and situps left and then we're done, so it shouldn't be long.'

Ethan pulled out his phone to scroll through Twitter, but in reality was paying more attention to the two on the other side of the gym. Mark was hanging on to the bar, muscles in his arms tensing as he pulled himself up, a sheen of sweat beginning to coat his skin, which was fair considering it had probably been about 20 minutes. Noah stood beside him, counting between glances down at his stopwatch.

Sure, in his gymnastics days he was probably strong enough to do as many pull-ups as needed without batting an eyelid, probably helped by his low body weight at the time but _now?_ He hadn't done gymnastics in two years, and had only had sporadic gym sessions in between- not nearly enough to keep his fitness level where it had been before, which he was now starting to regret. He was just hoping that Noah didn't expect too much of him.

Watching Mark made him feel a little tense, on edge, just generally _off_ in a way he couldn't understand. Or describe, for that matter. It wasn't that he was _jealous_ or anything, like sure, maybe he'd be a little more physically attractive, a little more comfortable in his own body if he worked out a bit more, maybe he would have had a girlfriend since high school (although he thought that was more down to lack of social interaction than anything), but that wasn't it. He felt nervous, and odd, and the fact that he couldn't even pin down what he was really feeling only worsened it.

He settled on intimidated. _Yeah, that was it-_ he was in a scary new job, and he'd always been a little overly insecure about stuff, so the fact that he'd been partnered with the epitome of model fitness- ok, a bit of an exaggeration but there was a high a standard acquired by most of their agents- probably wasn't doing him any favours. Noah was sweet and friendly and Ethan was already comfortable around him but he definitely couldn't say the same for Mark- from the looks of it he was a dauntingly capable agent and Ethan felt guilty that he was stuck with _him,_ who would probably be a bit of a burden. _And_ he was about to watch Ethan completely make a fool of himself not just here in this gym, but in whatever other classes he was coming to and then out in the field. He couldn't wait.

Ethan ran a hand through his hair, plastering on a smile as Noah beckoned him over. 'You ready?'

'I don't think so.'

Noah chuckled, 'Don't worry, I'll walk you through it. It starts over there.' He pointed over to a bar that Ethan moved towards, Noah turning back to say something to Mark before he joined along.

'Do you think you can jump up on that for me? And then haul yourself over it, if you can.'

Ethan did just that, and followed through the rest of the course under Noah's instruction. At first he was a little rusty but he quickly warmed up, most of the actions familiar and coming back to him in muscle memory, albeit a little shakily. Noah was impressed to say the least, even though Ethan mentioned he had done gymnastics, and also relieved, saying it'd give them a little more time to work on other things. Ethan smiled when he said that, not too familiar with praise as feedback had usually come in the form of shouted criticism when he used to do this all the time, along with the pressure of not making it to the next tournament. Although the stakes were much higher now, Ethan somehow felt more at ease.

The whole time, however, he had an itch- one that tingled the back of his neck- an urge to turn around and see what Mark was doing. He knew he was there, had watched him go take a seat on the side before, and the knowledge that he was there was disctracting to say the least.Ethan knew he was a curious guy, sure, but the extent his mind was going to try and get him to turn around and see was weird.

Eventually he caved, glancing back, the hairs on his skin standing up slightly when he realised that Mark was watching him in what seemed to be curiosity, eyes darkened and slightly blurred with distance. It was times like this that Ethan wished he could read minds or something. He finally came to his senses and was about to flash the guy a smile but Noah calling him forced his gaze away. When he finished the course Mark was gone.

-

'Ok so,' Noah projected his voice, pacing slightly as he addressed the class, who were lined up against the range. 'Remember what I told you. Brace, lean forward, and hold steady. Posture is just as important as aim. Well, maybe not quite, but you get the gist.' He grinned, and a few students chuckled. 'Right, so I think that's it. Remember all the safety rules, but apart from that you can get going- call me over if you have any questions.'

Ethan glanced around, picking up the rifle they'd just practised loading and unloading, flinching slightly as the trigger-happy guy on the other side of him began shooting. Mark was still talking to the assessor but Noah caught his eye and gave him a brief nod so he decided it was ok to continue. He didn't want to be the guy to hog the teacher's attention but then again everyone around him had had a few extra lessons before this one. Ethan, however, barely had a clue what he was doing, but at least Noah seemed to have faith in him.

Loading it- although that was the easy part, since he'd been taught it back in America- he pulled it up to his shoulder, gripping it probably a little too tight and feeling the weight of it in his hands. Somehow the heaviness made it seem more serious, more real. He looked down the sight to the vaguely human-shaped piece of cardboard a few metres away, and hoped he'd never have to do this in real life, feeling for the safety switch with his hand.

'You're holding it wrong, y'know.'

Mark's voice from beside him startled Ethan, slightly muffled through his ear protection, but distinguishable nonetheless. He lowered his gun slightly, moving his finger away from the trigger.

'You need to hold it into your shoulder more.' Mark hesitated before taking a step forward, placing his hand farther up the barrel than Ethans and pushing the butt of the gun gently into him. 'Like that, otherwise the recoil will hurt you.'

'Thanks.' He mumbled, flushing slightly. He was grateful for the advice, especially since he didn't think Mark was going to warm up to him at all, but at the same time it was slightly embarrassing how far behind he was. Not being able to fire a gun in two months could cost him his life, and he was having trouble coming to terms with that.

Mark took a step back, still watching and Ethan guessed he was going to have to shoot in front of Mark now, which was doing wonders for his self-confidence. He switched off the safety, the small _click_ making his heart stutter, and tried to hide the slight tremble in his hands by gripping the gun tighter, hovering his finger over the trigger, making sure to pull it into himself like Mark had said. He lined it up as best he could, taking a slow breath and shooting. The fire of the gun sent a jolt through him, his breath hitching slightly in his throat but releasing a second after, a small hole appearing a few inches off where he was aiming.

Mark nodded, the look in his eyes reassuring 'Not too bad.'

He flashed him a grateful smile, slightly sheepish that he'd made such a big deal of it in his head.

Mark's gaze, however, steeled over, and he turned away to begin loading up his gun.

Ethan was confused for a second before a wave of annoyance passed through him. He had no right to be, really, but it was kind of frustrating that he thought he was making progress and now it seemed he was back at square one. He just wanted to know where he stood, hoping that he'd actually make friends with this guy considering they'd be working together for god knows how long, and plus he'd been slightly friend-deprived recently. Recently being the past two years, and slightly meaning extremely.

'Are you going to apologise?' He blurted out. _Shit, he really shouldn't have said that. He should have just left it alone._

Mark halted, pausing over his motions, 'For what?'

Ethan almost backed out but he didn't, lowering his gun further so he could face Mark, the sudden burst of confidence taking him by surprise. 'You were kind of an ass yesterday.'

Mark was silent for a second, and Ethan wasn't sure he was going to answer, carrying on loading his gun like no one had said anything, but Ethan could see the cogs turning in his brain. Ethan opened his mouth to apologise, take back his slightly forward words but Mark beat him to it.

'No,' he said softly, clipping his ammo in place, 'I'm not. As I said, I'm not here to make friends.'

With that he raised his gun, swiftly unloading an entire round into the target in front of him, all landing perfectly dead centre.

It was a feat Ethan would find incredibly impressive if it didn't scare him half to death. That flimsy piece of cardboard could so easily be his head.

Ethan didn't talk after that, and Mark didn't look at him, quickly finishing the tasks for his assessment that Ethan tried not to get distracted by before promptly leaving, not spending a second longer there than he needed to. Ethan hoped he hadn't messed everything up- yes, Mark wasn't being the _most_ cooperative but he should have just left it, not poked the bear or ruined the mutual neutrality they had had going on- he'd just hoped that they could be a little more than strangers but obviously that's not what Mark wanted. And Ethan couldn't really blame him, based on what he had heard.

He sighed, bringing his gun back up and firing again; the bullets, bar a few anomalies, landing closer and closer to the centre each time. _Closer to where the heart would be,_ he thought _, the fatal shot_. Ethan shook off his thoughts, reloading the gun once more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I hope everyone is having a good day :) I've been a little busy with schoolwork lately so I'm behind on writing this week but hopefully I can catch up- I'm starting to prepare for my uni application which is terrifying, so if anyone else is going through the same process I feel you aha.  
> Also, I'm writing a future chapter and I need the type/order of coffee Ethan would drink, but I know absolutely nothing about coffee so if anyone's got any good ideas let me know, I'm definitely more of a tea person myself.  
> Thank you for reading, let me know if this was a good chapter as when editing I found it a little boring but that might just be because I've read it too many times! Stay safe everyone <3


	5. You Thought Wrong

Within a month or so, Ethan had managed to get some sort of routine down. Every day he'd be up early and training with Noah for a few hours- and if he was honest that was probably the best part of his day. It was nice to be in shape again- have that good feeling after a workout, not being out of breath after going up the stairs too fast, being able to see outlines of muscles poking out from under his skin which he hadn't been able to see in a while. He also hadn't realised how much he missed gymnastics until he was back up on the bars- and while it was far from a performance or show he was doing, it was still enough to make him happy.

Also, it'd given him a chance to grow closer to Noah- often hanging out outside of work hours, and to Ethan he was a lot more than just a ticket out of the building. Often they'd go to the pub- it was weird that Ethan could legally drink now, but it wasn't something he took too much advantage of- or just walking around the streets- and while London was so overwhelmingly huge that Ethan could never even imagine seeing all of it, he'd fulfilled his goal of seeing _enough_ of it, and maybe he was liking it more than he thought he would.

For the rest of the morning and often well into the afternoon, Ethan's time was taken up with classes- most with Kathryn; teaching him the ropes; first aid, self-defence, all that jazz, but sometimes joining the group lessons they ran for trainees. He even met someone who used to go to school with Mark (why he had returned to training three years after him and Mark would have finished Ethan didn't know), and by the sounds of it Mark had always kept to himself, when he wasn't with Sean. Ethan tried not to make too much out of asking around, not wanting to seem like a crazy stalker or anything, but hey, he was a curious guy.

Apparently, quite a few people had come from some sort of recruiting program that started near the end of secondary school-meant to lead on to working in the secret service, and that was where the guy knew Mark and Sean. He didn't share much about it, but from what Ethan could tell it made up quite a bit of the pool of new recruits that join at 18, the ones he was doing lessons with. After that they were meant to have two years of training before being allowed out into the world but apparently, and obviously so in Ethan's case, they didn't object to making exceptions.

Speaking of Mark, Ethan still hadn't managed to have a kind of one-way stilted conversation with the guy but he didn't really know what he was expecting. He wasn't in any of Ethan's classes but every now and then he'd see him in the gym locker rooms- although Ethan had noted he often worked out later in the day than him, but when that happened he didn't really acknowledge Ethan's presence, only sparing him a glance before going back to pretending he didn't exist or something. Not that Ethan was much better, of course. He'd linger by the lockers, taking his time to get out his stuff so as to give Mark a chance to finish up and leave before Ethan would get changed or have a shower. He'd do the same for anyone else, sure, because who really _liked_ changing in front of a bunch of strangers, but not really to the same extent. He always felt a little more on edge, nervous around Mark, and apart from the fact that they'd at some point have to work with each other, Ethan couldn't figure out a reason why.

He also saw him in the team briefings, which happened every week or so, although most of it didn't concern him or Ethan yet, so it looked like he didn't pay much attention. Not that Ethan was watching him or anything, he just couldn't help but be curious. And kind of afraid. If someone wasn't big on talking to normal people, y'know, who can hold a conversation easily, he probably wasn't going to like Ethan very much. But for some reason Ethan couldn't get him off his mind. Maybe he just wanted to figure Mark out.

Nothing really changed until the morning about five weeks in. It was such a small interaction, but it left Ethan more confused than ever.

He'd just finished up with Noah and had gone to the third-floor cafe, hair still slightly damp but drying in the humid August air. It was pretty empty, for the most part, especially at 10:30 on a weekday, with only a few people tapping away at their laptops at some of the tables that overlooked the city, the polarised glass stopping most of the blinding light from invading into the room. Leo- the barista- although it was occasionally Kathy, was starting a fresh batch of coffee for him, as well as heating up a toasted sandwich in the back. 

He was there often enough to be considered a "regular", chatting with whoever was behind the till but this time he wasn't given the chance.

'Hi.'

Somehow, even though Ethan could probably count on one hand the number of times he'd heard him speak, he recognised Mark's voice immediately.

It took a second for him to even be shocked, whipping around to face only another round of surprise when he realised the man standing there _was_ in fact Mark. The man who, as much as Ethan knew, didn't start a conversation with anybody, let alone him. He decided to brush it off as him being in a social mood, taking any chance he could get to be on better terms with the guy.

'Hey.' He responded, dumbly.

He was dressed rather smartly, although to be fair Ethan hadn't seen him in much more than gym clothes- shirt tucked neatly into his trousers, sweater tied around his neck even though it must have been in the 20s outside, casually leaning against the bar as though this was completely normal, as if he was the type to start up conversations with people he didn't even _like_.

A tense silence fell onto them, and Mark looked around a little awkwardly, seemingly regretting his decision. Ethan didn't want that, racking his brain for something to say to prove he was worth talking to, have a normal conversation, encourage Mark to talk to him rather than not acknowledge his presence.

'Uh... why are you here?' He said finally. _Why are you here? What the fuck is that? Oh yeah, he's here to find the cure for cancer, what do you fucking think-_

'Oh, I have a meeting with Tyler. Figured I'd need a drink to get through it.'

Ethan hummed in agreement, 'I don't think they sell bleach here.'

Mark let out a soft chuckle, a smile lingering on his face, just touching his eyes. A strand of hair fell onto his face, and Ethan realised that he'd never seen this before. He'd never seen the sides of Mark's eyes crinkle slightly, corners of his lips tugging upwards and it made his stomach flip, buzzing with pride at the action. It was such a small achievement but to Ethan it seemeed to mean something. _God, since when were his thoughts so fucking weird? Since when did he have such a need to please someone?_

It was only when Mark's expression started to morph into one of confusion that Ethan realised he'd been staring, feeling his cheeks go hot as he cleared his throat turning away to thankfully see that Leo was coming out of the back, spotting them. He could figure out what the fuck was wrong with himself later.

'Oh hi, what can I get you?' He smiled brightly at Mark but the man didn't return it, expression steeling over once more.

'Just a coffee please.'

Unfazed, Leo leaned against the counter, 'Sure, the next batch should be ready in a few.' He looked between them both, 'Do you two know each other?' 

Ethan glanced at Mark but he was just staring at Leo blankly, unreadable. 

'We work together.' Mark spoke, plainly.

'Oh, are you Louis? I remember Ethan mentioned-'

'Mark.' Ethan cut in quickly, 'He's Mark.' 

'Oh,' Leo stated, a vague remembrance of the name on his part, 'Nice to meet you.'

Mark didn't reply and Leo's smile only faltered a second before continuing. He was resilient, Ethan would give him that.

'So how long have you two been friends?'

'We're not.' Mark replied instantly, tone sharp, 'I said we work together.'

Leo's eyebrows raised slightly, 'Oh... right, sorry. I should probably- uh, go check on your sandwich Ethan.' He shot him a half-confused, half-apologetic look before darting out.

Ethan could only watch him leave in shock, half expecting Mark to take it back or explain but he didn't. Ethan took that a sign he had to continue the conversation.

'Look, I know you've got this whole "hating everyone" thing going on that you feel the need to keep up or whatever,' He started blatantly, surprising himself with his boldness, 'but it'd be nice if you could at least _tolerate_ me, considering y'know... we'll be working together pretty soon.'

When he finished his spiel he noticed that Mark was looking at him now, listening, and it made his heart spike a little, suddenly unsure of himself.

'Who said I couldn't tolerate you?'

'Oh...' Ethan breathed out, a little taken aback, 'I just thought-'

'Well you thought wrong.' He stated simply, going back to fiddling with the stack of cards on the counter.

'Ok, well uh... that's good.'

Mark hummed in agreement, not turning back to face him.

Leo came back with his order and he left, sparing a glance back at Mark but the man had not moved in the slightest, standing there all innocent as if he hadn't just completely fucked with Ethan's head. He just wished he could read Mark's mind because maybe then he'd be able to figure this man out.

-

'Focus Ethan.' 

Noah's tone was gentle as Ethan grappled and regained his grip on the bar, hoisting himself back up into position. He'd been distracted by movement over by the doors, faltering as he had jumped up and barely managing to catch himself with one hand. It must have been some trick of the light however, as no one entered.

He finished off the course, doing his best to maintain concentration and push through the ache in his muscles. Collapsing at the end, he looked up from the floor at Noah expectantly, chest rising and falling in quick succession.

'10"48.' He said, glancing at his stopwatch and beaming down at Ethan, 'That's real good. You'll be fine next week.'

Ethan huffed a smile, letting his head fall back to the ground as he stared at the ceiling lights. It wasn't the assessment next week he was worried about, it was what came after.

Sure, he was about as prepared as he could be in the time he had, but he still wasn't used to the idea that he was going to have to apply all the knowledge he'd learned. How to defend himself. How to break into somewhere. How to fire a gun. And to do all this, no less, with a man he barely knew.

Noah and Kathryn were sympathetic, of course, even though he hadn't really voiced his concerns they could tell he was a little uneasy (an understatement if Ethan had ever heard one), but they recognised that there wasn't much they could do about it, only being able to offer up distractions.

Sure, they told him he'd be fine, that he was in perfect shape, capable to take on most things that would be thrown at him, but it didn't do much to douse the anxiety that was slowly burning away at him. Making him feel a little sick whenever he thought about it, the things he would actually have to _do_ , the pressure that was going to be put on him whether he liked it or not. It was lonely, even when surrounded by his friends, which to be fair, there was only two of, but he just felt like they didn't understand, _couldn't_ understand the way he was being pushed into something he completely and utterly wasn't ready for, no matter what the test results said.

He tended to ignore it though, pushed the thoughts out because nothing good could possibly come from thinking about it. He didn't quite realise that much worse would come from _not_ thinking about it, but his _blatantly ignore anything that could possibly make you stressed until the very last second_ method worked pretty well right up until the morning of his first, _proper_ briefing. The one that actually meant something.

Tyler had mentioned in the last one that they had a small mission for them both, once Ethan had finished up his assessments, something to ease him into the whole fieldwork thing- at least they weren't throwing him in the deep end when he could barely swim.

The briefing also guaranteed an opportunity to see Mark- as Ethan hadn't seen him in a week. As much as it weirded him out to admit it, he had been thinking about him more than it was probably normal too- wondering where he had got to, whether he was ok, even though it was perfectly justifiable for Ethan _not_ to have seen him, considering their schedules didn't tend to overlap, it didn't stop his thoughts in the slightest. Maybe it was because Mark was important- to his job and therefore his life, and that's what seemed to keep him on Ethan's mind. He didn't really know.

Ethan groaned, realising he should probably get ready rather than staring up at the ceiling all morning, rolling off the bed and into the bathroom. He did the normal morning things, choosing a shirt and trousers from his cupboard that Noah had encouraged him to buy, figuring the occasion probably called for it.

He swung by the cafe on his way to the office, grabbing a coffee from Leo, who wished him luck.

Tyler greeted him politely when he entered, informing him that they were waiting for everyone else to arrive before they began. He took a seat on the edge of a desk, glancing around the room.

Louis was next to Tyler, busy on his computer, and the only other person was a woman in the corner, sorting through some of the papers that littered her desk. She'd flashed him a smile as he entered, and he vaguely remembered her name being Isla, from when Tyler originally introduced him to the team, but he couldn't be sure. She was put together- more-so than Ethan, that was for sure- but still had an air of amiability around her, a charm without naiveity that he was a little envious of.

The doors opened again and Mark came through them, surprising Ethan with his punctuality, as usually he was late to this sort of thing, probably a reflection of the fact that he didn't want to come in the first place. His gaze flickered around the room quickly, choosing not to respond to Tyler's greeting, and took a seat next to Ethan, although with a comfortable gap between them. His hands found home in his pockets, leaning back against the desk and staring at nothing in particular, silent.

He could see Tyler in his peripheral vision, watching them both with curiosity, but Ethan sure as hell wasn't going to say anything, instead sipping his coffee and waiting.

Eventually, everyone must have arrived because Tyler began the meeting- all the regular stuff; updates on anything new, delegating tasks, what the plan going forward was. From what Ethan gathered, they were working on a few leads abroad, as well as a couple potential sources, but for the meantime had something in London they wanted to chase up. He didn't go into much more detail than that, dropping their first mission on them as if it was as trivial as a spot of tea, or going for a walk in the park, just telling them to go talk to Isla about it- the woman who, turns out, Ethan _had_ identified correctly earlier.

'Hi,' She smiled cheerily as they approached, pulling her slick brown hair back and tying it. 'It's nice to finally meet you both, which one of you is Ethan?'

'Uh, me.' He gave an awkward smile, fiddling with the cup in his hands.

She tucked a hair she missed behind her ear, leaning back in her chair as she studied him, 'Noah told me about you.'

When Ethan rubbed the back of his neck nervously she broke into a friendly laugh, quickly following her statement up, 'In a good way.'

He relaxed a little, glad she was at least friend of a friend. 'How do you know Noah?'

'Well, he's my fiancee actually.' She held up her hand, revealing the ring that glimmered on her fourth finger, 'So, um, I'd say we know each other _pretty_ well.'

Ethan chuckled, 'Wow, uh congratulations.'

'He never mentioned me?' She raised an amused eyebrow, leaning back slightly.

'Not by name. I'm surprised he mentioned me if I'm honest.'

'Aw, no he likes you. Says you can land one of the best backflips he's seen. I've been looking forward to meeting you actually.'

Ethan opened his mouth to reply but was cut off.

'Can we just get on with this?' 

He glanced over at Mark, who was as unreadable as ever, and if looks could kill the guy would certainly have a murder charge by now. Except thinking about it, he probably already did, considering everything.

'Oh, yeah of course. Sorry.' She sent him an apologetic smile which he didn't return, pausing for a second before turning to her computer, opening up some tabs. Ethan decided to take a seat beside her, tapping his leg restlessly as she pulled up a location on her screen.

'So we've had some of the police looking out for us and this place got flagged up a couple times.' She began, glancing back over her shoulder as she spoke to them.

He heard Mark shift from behind him, leaning over so he could see, hand resting between him and Isla. He was close enough that Ethan could smell his cologne- it was nice, _fresh,_ Ethan thought to himself, and was in the middle of wondering where he got it when he realised how distracted he was. And fucking _weird_ , for that matter. Who gets distracted by some random guys cologne?

'Also one of the credit cards we've been tracking was used at the cafe. I think they're getting a little sloppy, but it helps us out so I'm not complaining.'

He felt Mark's presence move away, and his brain cleared a little, glancing to his side and seeing him leaning back, arms crossed over his chest, catching Ethan looking at him, and only then he noticed that Isla had finished speaking.

'Ethan?'

He ripped his gaze away to Isla, who was looking at him expectantly.

'Oh, uh, sorry, could you repeat that?' He fumbled out.

'I asked whether you could drive?'

'Umm, yeah. Yeah I can.' He smiled sheepishly and she returned it.

'Good.' She nodded, 'Mark can, but it's just a precaution in case the situation comes up. Tyler wants you guys to go check it out, if that's ok.'

They nodded and she continued, rambling a little.

'Well actually, he insisted you do it now, since we've heard there might be something today, so if you want to stay on his good side you should probably get there asap.'

She pulled a pen from the pot on her desk, jotting something down before holding it out to them. Mark made no move to get it so Ethan did.

'That's the address and the registration plate of the car you can use. Oh, and the keys, sorry.' She dug around in one of her draws, keys jangling as she passed them over too.

'Thanks.'

'No problem, it was nice meeting you!' She said cheerily, turning to Mark after a second, 'And you too.'

He considered her for a second, not saying anything and it made Ethan nervous just watching him.

Finally, his eyes flickered back to Ethan's, 'Are we going?'

He swallowed instinctively, faltering on his words as Mark just watched him expectantly, 'Y-yeah, sure.'

Mark nodded, shoving his hands back in his pockets as he brushed past Ethan to leave. Isla's eyebrows were raised slightly, giving him what he could only assume was a "good luck" smile. Ethan definitely felt as though he'd need it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again- I am so behind on writing, I've been working on the upcoming chapter for weeks now but my school finishes next week so hopefully I can catch up before it takes a toll on my posting schedule. Really hoped you enjoyed, my plan really picks up from here and gets more excited so I'm looking forward to writing that, as well as seeing how you guys like it! Thank you so much for the support, it honestly makes my day reading comments <3


	6. Trust Me

Ethan had to jog a little to catch up, falling into stride beside Mark.

He fiddled with a loose thread on his sleeve, watching the man carefully out of the corner of his eye. They halted in front of the elevator, and Ethan opened his mouth to speak but stopped himself. Did he really want to cause conflict? He knew their relationship was far from ideal but it at least felt like they weren't inches from toppling over the edge. Sentences away from Mark showing Ethan how well he could punch. Which he guessed would have to be good enough for him.

That was, until the elevator doors closed with them inside, probably not the best time or place to poke the bear but Ethan couldn't help himself. Whether it was the infuriation Ethan felt at how he could treat someone like that, or the way Mark thought he could ignore everyone as if they weren't even _worth_ talking to, or the unexplained urge Ethan had to understand this man, see the version of him he'd managed but a glimpse of just the other day. Either way, there was an unfounded confidence in his words when he blurted them out.

'You could have been nicer to her y'know.' _God, why did he keep doing this to himself? Something was seriously wrong with him._

Mark scoffed, leaning back against the wall and looking around the elevator at anywhere but Ethan. 'Why does it matter to you?'

Ethan was staring dead on at the side of his face, and he knew Mark was completely aware of this, ignoring the way Ethan was willing him to at least _look_ at him, acknowledge him or show what he was thinking. 'I- I don't know it's just- well it doesn't do _you_ any harm so...'

Mark was silent and Ethan noticed the slight clench in his jaw as he continued, 'She just wants to get along. She was nice to you, _friendly_. You could have at least been polite.'

Ethan scanned what he could see of his face, the soft hair that curled around his ears, the stubble that darkened his face, and waited for an answer. He looked young, but the stress seemed to age him, and Ethan wondered what he was doing stuck in a job he seemed to hate so much. Mark stared straight ahead, wordlessly leaving the elevator as soon as the doors opened. Ethan barely took in their surroundings- a level he had never been to before- concrete walls and floor, pipe-lined ceilings, strong pillars separating the lines of cars and empty parking spaces, instead speeding up slightly as he followed.

'I know you don't like Tyler or those people, I can see that, but why Isla? She's genuinely nice.' Ethan called after him.

Mark halted in his tracks and Ethan almost walked straight into him, instead correcting himself. 'People like that don't do well here.'

He frowned. 'What's that supposed to-'

Mark turned so that his eyes focused on Ethan's, dark yet warm and strangely distracting, and that alone was enough to shut him up. _What the fuck?_ 'Can I have the keys?'

Ethan reached into his pocket and fished them out, making no objection as Mark took them and clicked the central button. An unlocking sound echoed through the floor and Ethan spun around to see a car flash it's headlights. One that Mark was already heading towards.

'Wait, we're going _now_?'

Mark glanced at him over his shoulder, confused, 'Where did you _think_ we were going?'

'I- I dunno.' He finally looked around and realised, yes they were indeed in a parking lot and somehow Ethan had failed to piece it together. 'Don't we need to bring anything?'

Mark reached the car, pulling open the boot and checking it. 'Everything we need's in here.' Looking back up to him, Ethan could swear Mark almost smiled, a faint glimmer of something in the dingy light; what would have been a reassuring gesture, but instead he checked himself. 

Ethan hesitated at the door for a second before pulling it open and sliding into the passenger seat. It's not like he could get cold feet now.

Mark got in across from him, snapping closed his seatbelt and starting up the engine as Ethan manoeuvred around in his seat to get the piece of paper out of his back pocket. Lifting up his hips while he was foolishly strapped into his seat was like some sort of fucking core exercise, and he'd done enough of those yesterday. 

He keyed the address into the Sat Nav while Mark reversed out of the spot, one hand on the back of Ethan's seat as he turned to see out the back window. Ethan sure hoped he was a good driver, but by the looks of it he had nothing to worry about. Better than him driving, either way.

The overhead lights shone into the car as they passed through the parking area, Mark flashing his card to the security guard to be let out. Ethan held in a chuckle, thinking that it was almost like they were in the FBI or something when he realised that they were, in fact, pretty much that. He didn't think he'd ever get used to it.

And then they were outside, navigating the narrow and confusing streets, driving in complete silence which unfortunately gave Ethan a lot of time to think.

Or observe, as that's what seemed to spark his thoughts. It was jarring almost, seeing people- crossing the street, carrying grocery bags, stopping to chat on street corners. Living _normal_ lives. Just... having a regular job, walking your dog, going on a date or out with your mates. Things everyone around him seemed to take for granted, and things Ethan had never had, or at least not had in a long time. Even things that seemed unenjoyable- paying rent, filing taxes, getting the bus to work. Sure, people hate monotonous, insignificant and mind-numbingly dull actions, but at least they got to do them at all. All their lives were just so _ordinary,_ and Ethan didn't even know if that's what he wanted, but there was always that inexpungible, nagging sense of what life would be like if things were different

He wondered, and not for the first time that day either, about his parents. What they were doing, how their lives were going. Whether they'd finished the renovation of the patio, or whether they found the right painting to go above the dining table. Whether they were still feeding Spencer the same brand of treats he always liked, or whether Spencer was still alive at all. Whether they still thought about him, or whether they'd given up on waiting for him to call. It was a sad thought, really, but Ethan was pretty used to it by now, all the regret just replaced with a numb sense of longing. It was the kind of thing he'd think about before quickly changing the subject, even though everything was taking place from the confines of his own mind.

Finally his mind drifted to Mark, which wasn't surprising considering the man was literally sat right beside him, but he felt weird about it nonetheless. As if he were talking about him behind his back or something. Except he was only talking to himself. He wondered what Mark was thinking about, whether this whole thing seemed as new to him as it was for Ethan. _No, that's stupid. He's been doing this for years._ The real question was _why_ was he doing it, and Ethan was dead curious.

He fiddled with the ends of his sleeves, once again overcome with the urge to ask questions he probably shouldn't, stick his nose in where it didn't belong, but he convinced himself that it was ok as long as he had a good reason. Maybe he was just concerned.

'Isn't it lonely?' He asked finally, voice quiet enough that Mark probably could have got away with pretending he hadn't heard. But he didn't.

'What?' He saw Mark glance at him cautiously in his peripheral, but he kept his eyes glued to his hands. He paused before replying, mulling over his words carefully, as this definitely wasn't the right time to say the wrong thing.

'I've never seen you talk to anyone unless you're forced to. You're always alone. I don't know much about your personal life or your friends, but it doesn't seem like you've got many, and I don't know why you're so adamant on pushing everyone away but I just feel like that would make someone lonely.' He paused, taking a small breath before looking up but Mark's expression was unreadable, eyes fixed on the road and hands clenched around the wheel like his life depended on it. 'Are you?'

The man made no move to respond, and after a few seconds Ethan dropped his gaze back, a slight sinking feeling in his chest. 'I'm sorry, that was too personal, I shouldn't have-'

'No, you shouldn't.' Mark cut him off, his tone warning and bitter, 'Save your goddamn therapy for someone else.'

Ethan opened his mouth to apologise but quickly closed it, deciding that not speaking was probably a better option. He hadn't meant to piss him off, although looking back on it now it was pretty obvious Ethan should have just left it. What, did he expect Mark to go about spilling all his problems to him? It was a stupid idea in the first place. And now he'd probably set back the whole "getting along" thing quite a few steps.

The pulled up at a red light and Mark's gaze faltered from the road, looking down albeit pointedly _not_ at Ethan, however he'd take whatever he could get.

'Sorry.' Mark muttered, completely surprising him.

'I- it's okay.' Ethan spoke so fast he stumbled over his words, which he shouldn't have been in such a hurry to say considering the car once again filled with silence.

'Y'know,' Ethan started, for some reason thinking it would be a good idea to keep going, 'If you ever _do_ get lonely, or just want to hang out with someone, I don't have a lot on my plate. And Noah and Kathryn are really nice too, I think you'd like them.'

He cleared his throat, continuing to ramble but Mark didn't stop him, 'Like no pressure, I don't expect you to say yes or anything it's just... the offers on the table. If you want it.'

After that it was silent for a long time, but this one was more comfortable than the last, no sense of discomfort or a desire to break it- just silence. The distance slowly counted down on the screen, kilometres whisking away like sand in an hourglass, streetlights, pylons and traffic lights whizzing by just as fast yet everything felt so still, peaceful. A calm before the storm, Ethan guessed, but it made him hopeful. Maybe they would get along after all.

As they drew nearer to their destination Mark's hands fidgeted on the wheel slightly, drumming two fingers against the rim. 'Are you nervous?'

'Yeah.' Ethan breathed out, releasing some of the tension held in his chest, 'Are you?'

He shrugged, 'You get used to it.'

One of the benefits Tyler had provided them with was a permit that allowed them to park free of charge on public roads. Not as glamourous as a laser pen or hologram glasses but more useful for sure- no muddling around scrounging up spare change for parking metres was far better than anything he'd seen in a Mission Impossible movie. Or that's what he liked to tell himself.

Mark tugged the gear stick into first as he parked, and the both of them unfastened their seatbelts and got out, slamming the doors closed behind them. Mark seemed to know the way, waiting for Ethan before he started down the street.

'What _are_ we doing exactly?' Ethan asked once Mark was in earshot, and the man sent him an amused glance, chuckling a little under his breath.

'We're going to sit and drink coffee for a few hours, and keep an eye out for anyone we might be interested in.'

'And what do we do if we see someone?'

Mark shrugged, 'Depends. You kinda just go with whatever seems good at the time.'

Ethan's face must have displayed his concerns, as Mark nudged his shoulder with his gently, hands shoved deep in his pockets. 'Don't worry. You'll be fine.'

Ethan felt the corners of his mouth tug up, mumbling a thanks.

They stepped in, the bell on the door dinging quietly to alert the shopkeeper of their presence. It was a small cafe- not that small by London standards, but with only a few tables and a bar- maybe ten or so customers at max capacity.

'Do you want something to drink?'

Ethan nodded, and Mark signalled with his head to a table by the window for him to sit at. The chairs had their backs to the wall, in a way that gave someone sitting there a good view of the whole place- smart.

His eyes scanned over the other people inside- people watching had always been a hobby of his, and he guessed now it was something he'd be doing more often- a dad with his two kids, completely decked out in what Ethan assumed was football team colours, baseball caps and striped scarves, probably stopping for a quick drink before the game. At the bar a young woman in a crisp suit, hair slicked back into a bun and fingernails tapping against the keys of her computer. Over by the wall a teenage couple gazing lovingly into each other's eyes, their expressions mushy and Ethan resisted the urge to fake retch. It reminded him somehow of his high school girlfriend- his last, and only relationship- although he was sure that he was never... _that._ All lovey-dovey and that shit. They mainly just hung out at parties, or football games, and while it was fun Ethan never really got the appeal. Maybe adult relationships were more his thing, but it's not like he would know.

A cup plopping down on the table in front of him snapped him out of his thoughts.

He scanned the label on the side of the cup, arching an eyebrow. 'How did you know my order?'

Mark sat down next to him, leaning back into his chair and swinging an ankle over his knee. 'I saw it when you were at the coffee place at work. It was on the receipt the guy handed to you.'

Ethan looked at him confused, and something seemed to dawn on Mark, the man grimacing slightly.

'Yeah I can see how that's weird now.' He chuckled, picking up his own cup and taking a sip, 'I'm observant. Comes with the job, really.'

Ethan smiled a little, 'S'probably a good thing.'

Mark nodded absent-mindedly, looking away slightly, a hand fiddling with a loose thread on the armrest of his chair. 

He cleared his throat, glancing back to Ethan. 'So, uh, where are you from?'

'Maine.' He stated simply, before quickly adding on after he realised he'd just stilted the conversation, 'You?'

'Leeds.' Mark replied, bringing a hand up to scratch the back of his neck. At least he found this whole thing just as awkward. 'You don't know where that is, do you?'

A ghost of an amused smile played on his face as Ethan shook his head.

'It's north of here. Not that you'll ever have to know that.'

Ethan nodded, picking up his cup simply so he had something to busy himself with. He winced as he took a sip, the bitterness biting at his tongue. Leo usually made it a lot sweeter than this for him.

He stood up and walked over to the counter grabbing a handful of sugar sachets. Mark gave him a slightly horrified look as he returned. 'You're adding _more_ sugar to that thing?'

Ethan scoffed, tearing open one of the packets and tipping it into his drink. 'You can't talk. Are you seriously drinking plain black coffee?'

'At least I'm drinking _coffee_ , that's practically chocolate milk.'

Ethan broke into a laugh, and he could almost feel the ice between them splintering. 'Hey! Don't knock it 'til you've tried it man.'

Ethan paused before looking back up, raising his eyebrows at the man he could tell knew _exactly_ what he was thinking.

'Nuh-uh. Nope.' Mark shook his head firmly.

'Oh _come on_ Mark, don't just sit up there on your high horse. Otherwise mine wins by default.' He grinned, relishing in the side of Mark he finally got to see. The glimmer in his eyes that for some reason caused Ethan's heart to flutter. With pride, he assumed.

The man rolled his eyes, 'Fine. But only to prove a point.'

Ethan beamed in victory, offering Mark his cup.

Slowly he brought it to his lips, as if stalling, before finally taking a sip.

He immediately made a disgusted face, scrunching up his nose and passing it back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed it down. 'That's disgusting. You are so getting diabetes dude.'

He threw his head back in laughter, feeling the tension in his shoulders ease a little.

There was a lull as his eyes returned to Mark's, which were brighter than he'd ever seen them, and he saw every motion happen as if it were in slow motion. He saw the slight falter in the man's smile, the underlying instinct to pull away when Ethan would do anything to make him stay. He could see the flood of thoughts flying through his brain a hundred miles a minute, and he wished he could know what they were, why he was so goddamn apprehensive, why he could never seem to let himself go, not for longer than a moment. What caused him to turn on and off like a water faucet, unreliably and unpredictably switching between the guy with one of the most contagious smiles Ethan had ever seen, the one he so badly wanted to _know_ for whatever reason, and the man who seemed too far off, unreachable and completely and utterly unreadable.

Mark cleared his throat, dark eyes flickering away from Ethan's and he swore he could feel the loss- something that slips away again and again, empty at reaching hands. He could see guilt, and uncertainty, but mainly things he had not yet learnt to read off the man's face, things he did not yet understand, but _god_ he wanted to.

He felt like he'd never been so fucking _curious_ in his whole life.

-

Mark foot nudged his under the table and he looked up from his drink, Mark gesturing with a subtle tilt of his head to a guy heading towards the exit. As soon as the door closed Mark was standing up, Ethan following suit, suddenly finding that his legs already felt unsteady, the full force of the situation beginning to kick in. He'd almost forgotten that they were here for more than just coffee and a chat.

Mark leaned over, speaking lowly into his ear. 'See the bag he's holding?'

Ethan looked over Mark's shoulder, through the shop window, and out onto the street where the guy was walking away from them, collar on his coat turned up. Sure enough he was holding one of those reusable shopping bags, "Tesco" emblazoned on the side in bold letters. Completely inconspicuous.

'Yeah.' Ethan whispered, tilting his head up ever so slightly that he could look back to Mark.

'Well _she,_ ' his eyes flickered to someone behind Ethan, who he had the common sense not to look back at, 'was the one who walked in with it.'

Ethan didn't realise how close their faces were until he noticed that he could see the flecks of black in Mark's eyes, and didn't realise that they were _too_ close until a flush rose up his neck, them both stepping back simultaneously before he trailed behind Mark out the cafe. _Well that was fucking weird._

He glanced back as they exited, quickly spotting the woman Mark must have been referring to as she was sat alone at the bar, typing something into her phone.

'Don't we have to watch her too?'

Mark's eyes remained focused on the man slowly disappearing at the end of the street as they crossed the road to their waiting car.

'General rule of thumb:' He dug his keys out his pocket, 'Go for the guy with the goods. Nine times out of ten they're the one you want.'

Ethan nodded, although Mark wasn't looking so it didn't make much of a difference, slipping in the other side and Mark kicked it into gear, trailing down the street.

When they got to the corner they waited, thankfully with no one behind them, watching as the man unlocked a car, getting in and tossing the bag into the passenger seat. Mark busied himself adjusting the wing mirror as he did, waiting for the guy to reverse out his spot and set off down the street before he made a move.

Ethan's heart thudded in his chest and in his ears, watching as the car crept away, another car joining from an incoming street blocking their view as they trailed behind. The car was deadly silent, bar the too-loud ticking when Mark decided to flick on the indicator, following through streets and alleys while remaining behind enough to hopefully go unnoticed, although the longer it went on the less sure Ethan was. The roads around here were empty enough to make him easy to follow, but also easy for him to catch on, and as the silence began to drag on the air only seemed to get heavier.

'Shit.' Mark cursed under his breath, and Ethan saw his hands tighten on the wheel.

'What?'

'I think he's noticed us.'

As if he'd heard, the car in front sped up slightly, the quiet whine of his engine picking up in frequency, buzzing in warning like a hornets' nest, cutting through the thin layers of glass that separated them.

It was only when they turned a corner that Ethan began to notice the way the houses were thinning out, like steam from a kettle, spreading out to fill the available space, dried out and half-grown over pavements void of people, witnesses. The texture of the road declining from smooth to rough and cracked, dusty and unmaintained as their surroundings emptied out. It was as desolate as you could get really, for a city, and it was certainly setting of alarm bells in Ethan's head, red flags waving at him from every angle. 

'Don't panic.' Mark said softly, somehow reading his mind, eyes unwavering from the car up ahead, 'But I need you to get the gun out the glove compartment.'

His tone was reassuring but his words were not, and everything seemed to freeze- his thoughts stilted and half-formed, hands unmoving from his lap. Suddenly everything seemed too real. As if any movement could cause everything to fall apart. Because that's sure what it felt like.

'Ethan, I need you to listen. Please.'

He could feel his heart rate pick up, tongue heavy and swollen and thick in his mouth and _oh god_ it was getting harder to breathe, throat constricting mercilessly and every limb either a dead weight or shaking like a leaf. His thoughts quickly clouded with panic because he had to listen to Mark, do a good job and not get them killed but at the same time he couldn't do this, he _really_ couldn't do this. Back in practice it had seemed fine, normalised almost, loading bullets you knew weren't going to end up in a body, handling a gun you knew whose barrel was not going to be the last thing someone saw. Nothing could have prepared him for this- even when he had thought about it he never knew how overwhelming terrifying everything would be.

Mark's words cut into his thoughts, gently easing through the thick fog of trepidation.

'Hey, it's okay,' Mark's fingers ghosted over his arm, as if reluctant to touch, but the action was comforting nonetheless, the man glancing between him and the road, 'It's for me. I'm not going to make you shoot it. Promise.'

'Are you sure we should be doing this? You don't know he's going to- he might be... '

He saw Mark swallow, 'I'm not going to do anything unless I need to. Trust me.' His gaze lingered for a second before it was torn away to the road.

It wasn't like Ethan to trust the words of someone he barely knew, but something about Mark's tone made it easy. Too easy- Ethan felt like he barely knew what he was doing when he nodded, reaching to pull open the compartment in front of him.

'Make sure to keep it below the dash so he doesn't see it. Can you load it for me?'

Ethan nodded, fingers fumbling with the bullets, shaking so hard that it was difficult to get them into the slots, instead scratching against the edges. His thoughts were racing because _fuck_ this was really happening- and yeah he knew it was going to happen eventually but _right now?_ He'd never felt like this before, never actually been _in danger_ like this before, never realised quite how quickly everything could just end _._ _Game over._

The weight of the gun was cold and dead, hand wrapped loosely around it because he was scared if he held it tightly he'd have to use it, as if that logic made any sense whatsoever. Just a few months ago Ethan had never even _thought_ about hurting someone like this, _killing_ them. Hurting their family, their future, all the children they could have had, and _fuck_ he knew he wouldn't be the same afterwards. It's just something he could never do. What even makes his life more valuable than theirs?

He took a shaky breath. Mark wouldn't make him do that. He promised, and Ethan trusted him, but it didn't stop the churning in his stomach, spikes of panic when the man ahead glanced up at them in his rearview mirror. It felt like a threat.

When it happened everything seemed to slow to an almost halt, everything occurring in an instant yet slowed to a halt. He saw through the back window as the man turned, reaching an arm back and pointing it straight at them, his gun glistening in the light.

Their eyes only made contact for a second, unfamiliar and unforgiving before he was being pulled, shoulder crashing into the central console as Mark shouted at him to get down, arm pinned uncomfortably against the car seat, and it was only when the windshield completely shattered, raining glass onto the both of them, that Ethan realised that Mark had just most likely saved his life.

And just as easy as it had slowed, time started up again, shooting off far too fast for Ethan to catch up.

'Steer.' Mark commanded, grabbing the gun that as some point Ethan must have dropped on the seat, and he must not have moved fast enough because Mark grabbed his hand and guided it to the wheel, forcing him into action. His grip tightened, attempting to force all the panic out of his brain so he could concentrate, blinking fast and watching the road.

With the end of the gun, Mark sat up slightly and bashed it into the glass, pushing out chunks of splintered glass so that they could see, ducking when another two shots were fired. Ethan leaned over to get a better grip on the wheel, managing to keep them in a straight line but when it got to a corner he swerved, elbow colliding with something too solid to be a car seat in an action that was probably more violent than necessary.

Mark rubbed his side. 'Watch it.' He muttered, and Ethan blushed, mumbling out an apology. 

The click of Mark flicking of the safety echoed in his ear- they were both staying low to avoid getting shot, and Ethan could feel Mark's breath disrupting the hairs on his head, his gun not much further away.

He peeked above the dash as much as he dared- just enough to keep them on track, watching through the cracked glass as the man ahead turned around again, reaching back to fire- and luckily Ethan's instincts took over, swerving harshly to hopefully skew his aim. Whether it helped at all Ethan didn't know, but neither of them were dead or shot yet, so that was a plus.

A deafening gunshot ricocheted in his ear, causing Ethan to flinch harshly, leaving behind a buzzing, faint whine in its wake.

'Sorry,' He heard Mark mumble from behind, feeling him shift to position the gun further away. Ethan could spot where it landed- taking out a reasonably sized chunk of metal from the car body, a few inches from the bottom. He knew that they were in a moving vehicle and all, but it was unlike Mark to be _that_ far off. He could tell from the amount of times he'd subtly watched him in shooting class, slightly jealous of his effortless precision.

Ethan heard him curse under his breath, shifting up so he could see. It was a fast action, but a dangerous one- suddenly putting him directly in the line of sight, easy target practice for the guy who at any second could turn around and shoot, but before Ethan could do anything about it; shout at him to be careful, pull him back to the safety behind the dash, Mark was firing two quick successive shots out onto the road- directly into the two tyres up ahead. Louder noises followed- the bang as one of the bullets punctured a tyre, and the other one must have lodged somewhere in the axel because the wheel stilted, screeching against the ground as the car spun out of control. He saw the man up ahead jerk the wheel sideways, frenzied to gain any amount of control but it was too late and the car sped straight on into the wall.

Ethan was flung forward as Mark must have smashed the brakes, head smashing into the steering wheel, turning as best as he could but he heard the scratch of metal on metal, the edge of the car nicking theirs as they swerved the corner with their remaining momentum. And then it was silent.

It took a second for him to regain his senses, fingers still gripping the wheel as if his life depended on it, finally becoming aware of the thudding in his chest and his head. Almost a reassurance at this point. He let out a breath, slowly shifting back to his own seat. 

'Stay down.' 

Ethan nodded, watching carefully as Mark opened his door and stepped out, gun in hand.

'Clear,' a few seconds later.

He followed, slamming his door closed as he walked over to the slightly mangled but recognisable car that just moments earlier had been speeding up ahead. Mark stood by the driver's seat, resting on the part where the window used to be, slightly leaned in.

'Is he...' Ethan trailed off, swallowing as he let his eyes flicker over the unresponsive heap that was flung over the wheel.

'No.' Mark said softly, hand reached in with two fingers pressed against his neck, 'Unconcious.'

He pulled open the door, wrapping his arms under the man's armpits and tugging, 'Help me get him out.'

Ethan rushed over, grabbing the undersides of his knees once they were accessible and following Mark back to their car, where they sat him up against the side. Mark went to the boot for something and Ethan used the time to check over him, remembering his training.

'Should we call for an ambulance?'

'No,' Mark came over and knelt beside him, putting down a small red bag he was holding- a first aid kid if the white cross was anything to go by- and fastening a pair of handcuffs over the man's wrists, 'Tyler will have sent people over. He looks okay from what I can see, at worst a concussion.'

He stood up again, brushing some of the dust off his knees before opening the passenger car door, sweeping off a few stray pieces of glass.

'Sit.' He laid the first aid kit on the roof of the car, unzipping it and beginning to rifle through its contents.

'What?' Ethan leaned back on his heels, mindlessly taking a seat, feet just about touching the ground from where they were swung over the side.

Mark glanced down at him, 'You've got a...' He motioned a line just above his own brow, 'From the crash.'

'Oh.' Ethan's fingers instinctively went up to touch where Mark was indicating but were gently smacked away, his hand coming to rest on the side of his face, steadying him, eyes scanning his forehead. He retrieved a square packet from above Ethan's head, tearing it open and pulling out a white cloth- disinfectant, Ethan assumed- and he winced as Mark dabbed it on his skin.

Ethan looked past him, through the car window to the street beyond, awkwardly avoiding eye contact. His forehead stung slightly, but it wasn't that bad- well it didn't _feel_ that bad, but pain can be deceiving- he hadn't seen it yet, after all. Either way, Mark's hands were warm, comforting in a weird way, fingertips light and just ghosting over his skin, and _yes_ he was a little touch-starved, but even this felt rather intimate for someone he barely knew. Albeit someone he _wanted_ to know, and someone he thought about probably a little too much to be considered normal, but to be fair Ethan wasn't that normal- all of this was so new, unfamiliar to him, and that added on to the fact that that he was an overthinker in the first place could probably explain a lot.

If he was honest, it'd been a while since things felt so _real._ Since he'd felt like he was living _in_ his life and not just watching from the sidelines. Since he'd done something useful and been not just some trivial part of someone's day, there only because he had nowhere else better to be, forgotten as soon as he left. Although the last hour had probably been the most stressful he'd experienced, the sheer _thrill_ of it still hadn't worn off, as much as he hated to admit it. He felt _alive_ and _real_ and like he had a purpose outside getting someone's coffee.

It was pathetic but Mark treated him like a _person_ , not just some task in a schedule or menial employee to deal with, and it was so, _exhilaratingly_ refreshing.

His leg started to bounce but was halted when Mark's grip on the side of his face tightened slightly, glancing down to give him an exasperated look.

'Keep still. You're so goddamn fidgety.' His tone was irritated, but the hint of a smile on his lips mellowed it, diluting any bite.

Ethan huffed a laugh, sheepish. 'Sorry.'

His hands were gentle, cautious as they worked, eyes laser-focused and brow ever so slightly drawn in concentration, and when Mark noticed him staring Ethan almost choked on his own spit, clearing his throat and looking away quickly, refixing his gaze out the window and hoping his face wasn't as hot as it felt.

'Do we need to check the car? Like the stuff he had?'

Mark shook his head, 'Tyler'll send over forensics. Probably doesn't want us to contaminate anything.'

He hummed in agreement- it was a little weird considering, y'know, a fucking _car crash_ probably contaminated just about everything you could contaminate, but rules were rules, and who was he to say otherwise.

Mark reached up again, pulling out a bandage from the kit and cutting it to size.

Ethan couldn't help the smile that wormed its way onto his face, hearting warming because Mark didn't have to do any of this, but he was.

'Thanks,' he mumbled, looking up at him awkwardly, 'for, y'know... this.'

Mark shot him an amused look, 'Fucking hell your standards are low dude.'

Ethan chuckled, looking away and biting his lip, 'Yeah, I know.'

He felt Mark scanning his face, and swallowed nervously- always intimidated when he felt scrutinized- forcing his eyes back to question it.

And there was that look again, swallowing up his expression, blanking out anything that was previously there. Ethan liked being able to read people, know what they were thinking, pick up on little signals and indications, but Mark was different. Reading him felt like cleaning up spilt ink- smudging and spreading all over the page, the words underneath getting more and more indecipherable the harder you tried- it didn't make sense the way he'd just switch off in an instant, as if he wasn't there at all, leaving you dazed and confused and stumbling around in the dark. To be honest, Ethan didn't know why he cared so much.

And then Mark was stepping away, zipping up the kit and looking away, saying something about how the team should get here soon but Ethan wasn't really listening, too caught up in his own thoughts, as usual, now suddenly hyper-aware of all the places Mark had been touching him, now exposed to the cold air. It was weird how things like that could linger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, I managed to finish this chapter just in time! I've been writing it for weeks just because I haven't been in a "writing mindset" and I couldn't get anything done but I finished it eventually so there's that :) I've also got an idea for my next fic but I'm trying not to think about it because I know I'll get distracted, but it's good motivation for me to try and finish this one faster- who knows maybe I'll be able to push it up to two updates a week soon aha (I know it's not a lot but I'm a slow writer ok). Anyway, I hope everyone is doing well and staying safe and thank you for all your support <3


	7. It Happens to Everyone

Shouts and cheers blasted out from the tinny speaker than sat next to the TV, mounted on the wall for everyone to see the football game that raged on between two teams Ethan didn't know. The screen flickered, static weaving in and out of the frame, greens and pinks fuzzing the picture until it began to get difficult to tell the teams apart, and even if he was following it, Ethan didn't think he'd be able to tell who was winning.

The condensation clung to his fingers, circled around one of those tall glasses you only really saw in bars- or _pubs_ as everyone seemed to call them here. A soft breeze flowed through the window behind him, flung open to escape the late summer heat and the draft tugging on the strands of his hair, tickling the back of his neck, and Ethan could have been fooled into think it was mid-Autumn if he hadn't just walked here with the others, sun on his back, erupting into blooms of heat on his skin.

The tacky leather of the seat crunched as he shifted, making room for Kathryn to sit beside him as the other two collected their drinks from the bar.

'So,' Noah started, shooting him a grin as he sat down opposite, swinging an arm around Isla as she sat beside him, 'How was your first job?'

Ethan hummed, taking a sip of his drink, trying not to scrunch his nose too much at the bitterness. 'It was good, y'know, a little stressful.'

Noah chuckled, 'Yeah I can imagine. Beat up any bad guys?'

'Not quite.' Ethan half-smiled, glancing down, tracing the little cracks and holes in the wood with his fingernail. Mark had done pretty much all of the work anyway.

'Yeah, you got us a lot of good stuff though.' Isla tilted her head, stirring her drink with her straw, 'He had a laptop and phone, and we got some...' She trailed off, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, '...other stuff.'

Ethan glanced around at the nearby tables, but no one seemed to be close enough to be in earshot. No harm in being careful though.

'How was Mark?' Kathryn asked from beside him, curiosity dipping into her tone, and he didn't miss the way Isla gave him a pitied look, even if it was with the best intentions.

'Good, yeah. He's nice. And uh, good at his job.'

He couldn't help the subtle smile that spread across his face, just from Kathryn bringing him up. It was odd, but he felt proud almost at the fact that he and Mark were... well he didn't know exactly, but certainly on better footing than before. He wanted to go on about how he'd been so friendly at the coffee shop, getting to know him a little or how he'd trusted Ethan to drive the car, and shot point blank out a moving vehicle _and_ not missed, but that would probably be considered a little weird. His fingers subconsciously went up to his forehead, feeling where the gauze was stuck to his skin, wanting to say how maybe underneath all the dismissive looks and half-assed answers there was someone really sweet and caring. Yeah, that would _definitely_ be weird. 

Noah tilted his head, 'Come on Ethan, you can be honest with us.'

Kathryn nodded, 'Yeah, if he gives you any trouble you can give us a call, we could try get you transferred.'

'Or _him_ transferred,' Isla butted in, 'because we kinda need you.'

Ethan frowned, 'No seriously, he's good. He's nice when you get to know him... I think.' He looked around his surprised friends, who were silent for a second before Isla spoke again, an awkward smile on her face.

'Well it's good that you're getting along. I heard down the grapevine that they're planning on sending you two out.'

'Out? Like where?'

'Overseas. We've got a source in California and she's being a little stubborn. Won't tell us anything over the internet, or over call. We were going to fly her over, but it might be easier for you guys to go to her, since we think some people may be keeping an eye on her or something. I don't know too much about it if I'm honest.'

'Oh,' Ethan's eyebrows rose slightly. It felt a little soon for something _that_ serious, especially considering they'd been on one mission so far, and he still had no idea whether Mark was going to turn around and start hating him at some point- probably something a little easier to deal with when they were on home turf rather than hundreds of miles away. But he guessed it was something they needed done, it's not like they had anyone else to do it- and maybe Tyler wasn't an asshole after all, just short staffed.

Actually no, if the way he treated Mark back in that meeting was anything to go by, he certainly was.

'Sounds good.' He mumbled, plastering on a smile and raising his glass back to his lips. He didn't really feel like complaining.

The conversation moved on, but Ethan didn't miss the concerned glance Kathryn shot him, corners of her lips upturning when he noticed but still lost in thought. _Yeah,_ he thought, _me too._

-

Ethan had mustered up the courage to ask Tyler about the guy they had managed to bring in, wondering whether he was okay and everything considering Ethan hadn't seen him since the crash. He said he was, but Tyler being well _Tyler,_ Ethan didn't really trust that their definitions of "fine" matched up that well.

Out of a combination of being bored out of his mind, having had nothing to do for about a week- lots of spare time around the training with Noah or the sporadic sessions at the cafe, definitely not looking out for the particular person he hadn't seen all week- or watching too many of those crime shows on the TV in his room to _fill_ said time, Ethan offered to help with the interrogation or whatever the fuck they were doing with the guy, ease his mind a little considering it was partly his fault the crash happened and also because an illogical part of him thought, _hoped_ that it might speed up the case a little, speed up the countdown ever so slightly until he could go home.

Tyler declined, politely, insisting he had his best people working on it. He did, however, mention that a few of the tech people on the team had scrounged up some useful information from his laptop, using all sorts of computery mumbo jumbo that Ethan barely understood- he was a recreational hacker, not a graduate in computer science after all- and he had no clue how Tyler was keeping up with it. Either way, that led onto a new assignment, and as much as Ethan rejected it, a buzz of excitement flowed through him at the thought. Boredom sure can drive you insane.

So that brought him here, following Mark through some blandly labelled door, feeling rather like a lost puppy in the maze of corridors and rooms that made up the entire building, the overhead lights buzzing before flickering on as they entered.

Metal shelves formed barriers that split the room into sections, boxes and jumbled miscellaneous items scattered across them, a couple cobwebs forming in the joints. Mark was rummaging through some drawers on the other side of the room, turning around to toss something at Ethan he noticed just soon enough to catch.

He held it out in front of him- quickly recognising it as a bullet proof vest- catching Mark's eye.

'Never worn one before?' He asked, dumping the pile he had been holding and shrugging off his jacket.

Ethan shook his head.

'Over your shirt but under one of those,' He nodded his head towards the pile made up of a couple of jumpers at his feet, 'Just a precaution, really.'

Ethan watched him pull it on- adjusting the straps and tugging down his t-shirt from underneath- before starting on his own. It felt sort of like having a piece of cardboard strapped to your chest. He grabbed a hoodie, pulling it over his head and scrunching his nose up at the dry and musty scent that suggested it had probably been sitting in this storeroom for quite a while.

'Yeah, sorry the stuff here's kinda old.' Mark mentioned, voice slightly muffled as the sweater swallowed up his words. It covered the vest well, and Ethan assumed his did the same, glancing down and chuckling at the logo on it, all chipped and faded.

'What?' Mark smiled before looking down at himself, pulling out the hem so he could see, 'Arsenal?' He pulled a face and Ethan burst into laughter.

Mark tried to keep a straight face but his eyes gave him away, sending him an amusing glare. 'Not funny, what if I die and my ghost is stuck wearing this?'

He grinned, 'Then everyone will just assume you have an _impeccable_ sense of fashion.'

Mark rolled his eyes, half-smiling as he walked back over to some shelves, calling over his shoulder, 'Do you want a holster?'

Ethan swallowed, the context of the situation settling in, 'Will I need one?'

Mark paused, before turning back, passing one to him anyway.

'You'll need a gun, just to be safe.' Mark fastened his own over his waist, pulling his jumper down to cover it when he was done, 'If they aren't armed you don't need to use it, and if they don't have a gun you can probably get away with a shot to the leg, or somewhere to disarm them.'

 _And what if they do have a gun?_ Ethan thought, but from the look on Mark's face he already knew the answer, looking away and busying himself with his own.

He could see Mark watching him in his peripheral, as if unsure what to say, but he didn't look up. He didn't want to be some constant burden, some kid who kept needing consoling because everything was too much for him. And it was, but that wasn't Mark's problem, and he didn't want to pin it on him- make his life harder than it needed to be.

'We should go,' he mumbled, shooting Mark a quick smile to let him know he was fine, making his way over to the door. He needed to suck it up, deal with it. For everyone's sake.

-

They parked a few streets away from the apartment block, and Mark stopped him from getting too close, pausing under the doorway of a nearby shop. Ethan was about to ask what they were waiting for when a delivery man approached, balancing a couple boxes of pizza on his lifted leg while pressing one of the buttons lined up on the wall, speaking into the crackling microphone, and a second a click was heard as the door unlocked, the guy stepping inside.

Mark paced quickly up to the entrance, hopping up the stairs and catching his hand in the door just before it closed, holding it open behind him as he entered.

When Ethan stepped inside he was hit with damp and stale air, years of neglect showing through the peeling paint and cracked ceiling, carpet worn and matted, darkened with stains. The corridor was squeezed to the side to allow for a thin staircase that rose out of the floor, and he could just about hear the creaking footsteps of the man who had come in before them, no doubt avoiding the elevator Ethan could just about see at the end of the hall, boarded up with an out of order sign that looked as though it hadn't been moved in years.

'Guess we're taking the stairs then.' Mark mumbled, turning around to check Ethan was following when he started up them. By the looks of it there were two flats per floor, so they had quite a few flights to climb before finally they reached the dreaded 13.

The door looked the same as all the others, completely unassuming with some leaflet half shoved in the letterbox, and Ethan wondered whether it was some weird twist of fate or coincidence that led the owners to this apartment, or whether they'd purposely chosen the unlucky 13 as some sort of joke. Either way his heart pounded when Mark carefully approached it, grimacing as the floor let out a creak, a not-so-silent complaint at his choice of footing.

Swiftly he knelt, taking out a couple of thin metal tools from his pocket and jamming them in the lock- something Ethan had learnt in training but never took a liking to, and certainly never managed to complete in the record time that elapsed before Mark was standing again, door ajar as he kept one hand at his side, resting on the handle of his pistol when he stepped inside.

Ethan followed into the short corridor, willing himself past his shakiness, taking note of the empty coat hooks and heavy silence that occupied the space. He could see a table up ahead; a couple of glasses left out on it, but the walls either side blocked most of his vision.

The lights were off, and the windows looked out onto a wall, but the light that managed to get through cast thin shadows, stretching across the floor. It was quiet, too quiet for Ethan to get comfortable, his own breathing heavy in his ears and hairs on the back of the neck standing up because things just weren't as still as they should be. Dust swirled, disrupted by footsteps, floating down and creating pretty patterns in the light. The water glimmered ever so softly in its glass, its motion restless, almost. A clock ticked in another room.

Mark turned back to him, the look in his eyes warning- _be careful._ And that was when Ethan saw him, standing just through a doorway like a host expecting guests, ominously cloaked by the darkness, faint shadow shifting in the slightest, a sign that he was very much alive and not just some wax figure or mannequin. Whether that was what he expected Ethan didn't know.

His heart caught in his chest and Mark must have noticed the way Ethan was no longer looking at him, but past him, noticed the widening of his eyes and the way his mouth dropped open to call out, spinning back just as fast as the figure moved closer and Ethan didn't know what to do, frozen in place and instincts stubbornly refusing to kick in, but Mark was obviously not the same, reacting in an instant and Ethan didn't get to see any more because apparently he wasn't paying enough attention to the rest of his surroundings, as out of nowhere a weight was colliding with him, toppling over from the force of it. A knee landed on his chest, pushing him into the floor and just about winding him as the guy above his raised his fist back in preparation.

It was a good thing he did because it gave Ethan time to react, his own hand shooting up to meet it, gripping his wrist and twisting it unnaturally, forcing him to take his weight of his chest as he followed the action. Training coursing through his head, Ethan took advantage, using his weight to overbalance the man and scramble back to his feet, looking around for a weapon. Except he had a weapon, he just didn't want to use it.

The guy stood up, not taking his eyes off Ethan. It was dark in the apartment so Ethan couldn't make out much of his face, but he was looking at him expectantly, eyes glimmering slightly in the light that came through the window, shoulders rising and falling in time with his breaths. He could hear Mark dealing with someone else not too far away but he didn't let his eyes wander. It was all about who went first, and he seemed to realise that as he lunged towards Ethan again.

His hands game up to defend himself but were grabbed and pinned at his side, a head coming forward and smacking into his face, a splintering pain blooming between his eyes and down his nose. Doing the only thing that seemed suitable in that moment, Ethan brought his knee up as fast as he could, aiming right for... well, you know what. The guy stumbled backwards, hunched over slightly, and Ethan took the opportunity- planting his foot square on his chest and pushing him backwards and onto the floor.

Swiftly, Ethan moved away and into the kitchen, thinking on his feet and looking out for a pan, a bottle, something he could use to knock the guy out, something he could use instead of resorting to the weight that hung heavy around his waist. Every cupboard he opened was empty and he was about to give up when a glimmer of metal caught his eye, one on of the top shelves. _Of course it fucking was._

He obviously had a lot less time than he thought because a sound behind him had his head whipping around, body following suit just in time to find a knife pressed into his stomach, the tip placing just the slightest amount of pressure into his skin. He backed up until he met the kitchen counter but the blade didn't let up, following him the whole way and _fuck, this was the part where he died, right? Because he sure as hell wasn't thinking fast enough to get out of this._

Ethan looked up into the man's eyes pleadingly, much closer this time and the hesitation was all he needed to flip the situation, pushing his arm off to the side and then up, both hands over his that was holding the knife and pushing it up against his throat. It was a good thing the kitchen was so fucking narrow because soon enough Ethan had the other's back pressed against the wall, and he was in control again.

It took almost all his strength to hold the position, the guy's free arm flailing, attempting to push him away but failing and Ethan could feel his breath fanning over his face, heavy because _yeah_ if Ethan was in his shoes he'd probably think he was just about to die, because there was no guaranteeing that Ethan would mess up, falter and let the tables turn yet again. But that was the thing. Ethan couldn't do it, and he knew that walking in here because he was so, _blindingly_ stupid, and Ethan knew if one of them was going to walk out of here alive it certainly wasn't going to be him. He couldn't win.

Beads of blood had begun to form where the blade was in contact with the man's skin, and never in his life had Ethan felt both so powerful yet so utterly helpless all at once.

And it turns out Ethan didn't have the time to be thinking about all of this, because the action that had switched their positions had Ethan's arms raised up, hoisting up his jumper just enough to let the weapon he'd been avoiding thinking about this entire time peep out. And he felt the exact moment the guy noticed, eyes widening and probably thinking about how stupid the man who had him pinned against the wall was, because what kind of _motherfucker_ brought a gun to a knife fight and then proceeded not to use it? He almost felt the universe laughing at him, and this guy probably would too if he wasn't so driven by adrenaline.

And in a moment he was reaching for it, ready to grab it, ready to bring it up to Ethan's head and absolutely blow his brains out, or maybe a shot straight through the heart would work too, let Ethan feel the consequences of his mistakes for a few minutes before he finally lost consciousness. That would sure be a nice way to go.

He was powerless, unable to move his hands away because then, with the force the guy was resisting, the knife would go straight into him. Unable to press just that little bit further, easily end a life a quick as slicing through paper. Just a push, hell even a twitch of the muscles would do, but Ethan couldn't, frozen as he watched a hand that was not his inch closer to his gun, fast and unthinking but slowed almost to a halt in Ethan's mind.

Except he never reached it, a sound blasting through both of their ears and in a moment Ethan felt something splatter on his face, the man in front of him going limp, and he almost fell backwards at his sheer dead weight, taking longer than a second to register the neat bullet wound straight to the side of his head, Mark standing just a few metres away, gun lowering as the threat faded, and Ethan couldn't even look, couldn't think, could only see the man sinking against the wall, eyes glassy and lifeless and could only feel what he now knew was blood, pooling into clumps on his face.

He felt bile rising up his throat- mangled half-thoughts enough to get him to step backwards, move over to the sink before he was involuntarily retching into it, only bitter fluid and saliva coming out, grossly sticking to his lips and stretching down into the sink but it really didn't compare. His eyes stung- what he thought was tears but he couldn't really be sure anymore blurring his view- and he wanted to close them but the image of what he'd just seen- so unforgivingly _vivid_ \- was branded to the backs of his eyelids. He could taste blood thick on his tongue but he wasn't sure if it was his own anymore.

He felt a hand rest on the small of his back, comforting, rubbing back and forth slowly and he focused on it, focused on slowing his breaths in-between heaves forward. Pushing thoughts out of his head he could really do without because he could process _later,_ but what he needed right now was to get out of that kitchen, as the stench of acidity and- although most of it was probably psychological- blood was overwhelming him.

Ethan steadied his hands on the side of the sink, taking steady breaths through his nose with his mouth clamped shut because sure the smell was bad but the _taste_ was so, _so_ much worse.

'Sorry' Ethan muttered once the urge to throw up again had lessened, turning his head slightly so he could see Mark looking down at him softly, and _god_ he must look real pathetic right now.

'It's okay,' he spoke gently, eyes scanning his face, 'It happens to everyone.'

Ethan let his head fall back, breathing more slowly, carefully now. He wasn't sure whether this was normal or whether Mark was just being nice, but he was grateful nonetheless. 'What now?'

'We wait for Tyler. He's kind of funny about clean up. Do you wanna... go wait in another room?'

He swallowed, throat thick and painfully tight, standing up enough so he could switch on the tap, watching the small mess he'd made slip down the drain much more easily than it had come, reaching down to splash his face with water. The coldness of it sobered him enough, washing out most of the nausea and leaving him feeling numb. Shaky.

Wiping his face with the back of sleeve, he stood up fully, the edges of his vision fuzzing with black slightly, and he felt Mark go to move away but stop as Ethan leaned on him in the slightest, unsteady, instead wrapping his arm further around his waist with hesitation. He let Mark guide him through the kitchen, side-stepping parts of the floor and then he was sitting down in another room completely, brain blank to how he had got there.

And then Mark was leaving, moving away from the glass table he'd sat Ethan at, and he didn't want him to go, was about to beg him to stay but thought better of it, settling for watching him disappear through a doorway like a ghost. For a second Ethan thought he'd gone deaf, ears no longer connected to his head but realised at the sound of faint footsteps that it was actually just silent, unnervingly so. Whispers of sound leaked through walls and under doorways, traffic bleeding in from the outside but everything seemed to fade into one, steady drone.

When Mark returned Ethan physically felt himself relax a little, like falling into a safety net. He sat sideways on his char so he could face him, gently placing down a glass of water on the table.

'Thanks,' Ethan mumbled, gingerly picking it up and bringing it to his lips. The glass tugged on the skin of his fingertips, every sensation strange and overanalysed.

'Are you okay?'

'Yeah, just...' He trailed off.

'Yeah.' Mark answered, and Ethan glanced up, shooting him a small smile.

It was silent for a second before he cleared his throat, eyes flickering around the room, 'When I first went out... it must have been, what, over two years ago now? Anyway, we were sent off to some warehouse, counterfeit production or something, nothing serious considering it was my first time.'

Ethan hummed, looking into his glass as he listened. It was nice, distracting.

'They didn't really expect anyone to be there, and when there was well... it took both of us by surprise.'

He swallowed, chest tugging at the tone of his voice, taking a sip of water to occupy himself. By _both of us,_ Ethan assumed he meant Sean, the guy who felt like the missing puzzle piece in understanding Mark.

'It was kind of a life-or-death situation, and I just remember being so driven by panic and fear that I didn't even _know_ what I was doing. It just sort of... happened. I'd killed someone. You'd think it'd be this big moment or whatever but it really wasn't. It just didn't feel real- nothing I'd ever felt before could even _compare_.'

Ethan watched him, eyes drawn to some spot on the floor, so still he could almost be a painting, a brush of ink and colour rather than a guest at the gallery, an absent shadow of something that was, and Ethan felt with a sense of melancholic bitterness that he'd never see the parts that had flaked away, lost with time the way dust was lost to the wind.

'And now...' he paused before chuckling, but it felt empty, hollow. 'I dunno, just... sometimes it's scary how easy it is.'

He couldn't remember the last time someone had spoken to him like this. Honest, and genuinely, like he trusted Ethan enough to just listen. And _god,_ it felt like he wanted nothing more. It was as if all the walls he'd built up were suddenly made of glass, and Ethan liked what he could see underneath. He _cared_ about what he saw underneath, and for the first time in a while, he felt a little less alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, hope you enjoyed this chapter- I was going to post it yesterday but I had internet issues. I think I'll start posting chapters when I finish them rather than on a set day because I feel like for some reason I write better than way? (It'll still be at least weekly though)  
> Just a question for any Americans reading; can you tell where someone is from based on their accent? There's an upcoming chapter in California and I was wondering whether people would be able to tell whether Ethan was from Maine? Sorry if this is a stupid question aha.  
> Anyway, thank you so much for reading and I'd love to hear your thoughts below :) <3


	8. Mile High Club

Ethan was staring at the bottom of his empty suitcase, flung out on his unmade bed when a knock on the door interrupted him. He sighed, willing the suitcase to magically pack itself or at least do _something_ , but gave up on that idea quickly.

Stifling a yawn with the back of his hand, he trod over to open it, eyes widening and blinking a few times at the person that stood behind it.

‘Mark?’ He asked as if it wasn’t a stupid question, running a hand through his no doubt sticking up hair to calm it and straightening his crumpled pyjama top subconsciously.

The man raised an amused eyebrow, eyes flickering over him quickly, ‘I picked up our boarding passes from Tyler...’ He trailed off, holding up the papers in his hand but looking past Ethan and into his room, ‘Are you seriously not packed yet?’

Ethan frowned, looking down at the neatly zipped up suitcase on the floor behind Mark, ‘I thought we had a night flight?’

‘We do, but it’s almost midday and we’ve still got to get to the airport, and with the traffic...’

Ethan let out a sigh of relief, rolling his eyes, ‘So you’re one of those people who get to the airport like eight hours before their flight?’

‘No, I just-’ Mark protested, glaring at Ethan defensively when he laughed, ‘It’s good to be prepared.’

He held the door open so that Mark could come in as he went back to the main room, picking up some of the clothes he’d left on the floor.

‘You’ll be thanking me when we’re stuck in a traffic jam and _still_ don’t miss out flight,’ he called after him.

Ethan watched him straighten out his covers so he could sit, perched on the end of his bed and glancing around. How it was possible for someone to look that good at put together at this hour in the morning Ethan didn’t know, because he probably looked like crap. He swallowed nervously, dumping the clothes in the corner and looking around for anything he could have missed. _Yeah, like all the porn magazines and Nickelback CD’s you tend to leave lying around,_ he thought, biting back a laugh at his own stupidity.

‘It’s a nice place you got here,’ Mark commented, leaning back on his hands, ‘ _Homely.’_

He chuckled, glancing around at the white walls, ugly green curtains and about the 3 square metres of floor space he had. ‘Yeah, really feel like I’ve made the place my own, y’know?’

‘Oh yeah,’ Mark nodded, gesturing to the painting above his bed, ‘Did you pick this out yourself?’

Ethan looked up at the cheap canvas, macro photography of some sort of plant and almost definitely a stock image they’d ripped off the internet. ‘Oh yeah, it's one of my favourites.'

Mark hummed, ‘I can see why.’

Ethan smiled, biting his lip as he went to open the curtains to let some light in, ‘So, do you want a drink or something? I have some instant coffee but I wouldn't recommend it.'

He huffed a laugh, watching Ethan as he leant back against the desk. ‘I guess not then. We can get something on the way, although I'm not sure how soon that will be,' He drew out his words slightly, directing an over-exasperated look towards him.

' _Yes_ , yes I'll go pack, jeez.' He stood up again, legs complaining at the effort, and padded over to the wardrobe, removing clothes from hangers and drawers and tossing them back onto the bed. He wasn't sure how much he was going to need, since their trip was planned to be a week, but it wasn't like he had enough clothes to overpack anyway.

He saw Mark glance at his watch and rolled his eyes, scrunching up on of his shirts into a ball and tossing it at his face but his irritatingly fast reflexes allowed him to catch it before it hit him.

'Your aim's a little off,' he retorted, and _god_ did Ethan wish he could wipe the smug look off his face. This man was going to be the death of him.

-

Ethan flopped down next to Mark, the uncomfortable leather of the seats digging into his back. He rested his arm on his suitcase beside him, fiddling with the tag absent-mindedly.

'At least the queue wasn't that bad, I've waited over an hour in TSA before,' Mark rambled, typing something out on his phone.

Ethan hummed in response, eyes flickering around the airport when his gaze caught on a man sitting a few rows of seats away. The glint of the light on his phone camera was what snagged Ethan's attention, held in an unnatural position and tilted upwards so that the camera pointed directly towards him and Mark. He felt his breath catch in his throat, a feeling of dread that had been brewing in his stomach washing over the rest of his body, setting his hairs standing on edge. Was he taking a photograph of them? Surely Ethan was just being paranoid, _surely._ But something about the way he quickly tucked his phone in his pocket, eyes dead-on at Ethan for the shortest moment before standing up, glancing up at the flight departures and wheeling his suitcase away.

The look that had been in his eyes had Ethan's fingers tingling, and he couldn't look away as he watched the man leave, disappearing into the moving crowd. It was probably because Ethan was staring, right? That's why the guy looked at him. _Right?_

'I need to go to the bathroom,' Ethan stood, looking over at Mark who glanced up from his phone, not giving him a chance to reply before he was off, making towards the blinking blue sign.

Splashing his face with water he tried to get his thoughts in order. _God,_ he needed to chill out.

He'd been edge a lot recently, a lot worse since his last job with Mark but if he was honest his nerves had been acting up ever since he started this fucking trainwreck of a job. Even the littlest things seemed to just push him closer to the edge- occurrences that should be a passing part of his day so much harder to deal with than they should be. The vending machine eating his cash. Not having the change for the laundromat. Forgetting his earphones when he went to the gym. Seemingly nothing was wrong, but everything felt like it was falling apart, and it was getting harder and harder to hold it all together. Everything piling up on top of him until it was easier just to sink and give in to the ground than fight his way out.

Kathryn had asked him about it but he'd brushed it off, pegged it down to a little work-induced stress or something like that. Figured that leaving the country might take his mind off things but it even seemed to follow him here. It was suffocating, almost. He couldn't relax.

Even _now,_ his instincts were primed and ready to go, and he couldn't help the way he compulsively checked behind him through the mirror every few seconds, because someone could just be _watching_ him, through those tiny slits on the sides of the doors, or through the lens of the security camera, wired into the corner like a fly in a spiders web, and any moment he could turn around and have a knife to his chest or gun to his head or countless other possibilities his brain was having a great time spewing out, only feeding into his fear.

He was never one to be scared of death, not before anyway- it wasn't really something that crossed his mind often. He always figured it was something he wouldn't have to worry about for a while, but now it had been right there in his face things felt a little different. It wasn't exactly something you could unsee, or un _feel_ , for that matter. Now it _had_ crossed his mind it wouldn't get out, a song on repeat in his head, not bothering to leave space for anything else. It was almost laughable how not cut out for this job he was.

He flinched as a man came out of one of the stalls, the flush of a toilet sounding behind him. He gave Ethan an odd look but he was already ducking out, face red at how fucking _skittish_ he was.

Was paranoid the right word? Or irrational?

Mark looked up as he returned, and when he smiled Ethan felt himself visibly relax, tension in his shoulders easing in the slightest. The feeling was hard to describe- a reminder of what was _real,_ almost, or just a reminder that not _everyone_ was out to kill him.

'You alright?' He asked, frowning slightly, turning off his phone and tucking into his pocket.

'Yeah, fine,' Ethan shot him a half-smile, shifting his weight onto his other foot, 'Do you wanna go get something to eat?'

Mark's eyes flickered with something but it was gone as soon as it had come, the man standing up instead. 'Sure.'

With the size of the airport they were spoiled for choice, but after a short debate they settled on a fast food place not too far away, tucking their luggage under the table as they sat opposite each other. 

'So,' Mark started, picking up and taking a bite of his burger, 'Are you looking forward to being back in America?'

Ethan shrugged, paper crinkling as he unwrapped his own, 'I guess so, I don't really know the East coast that well though.'

'Didn't you live in San Diego for a while?'

'Yeah, yeah I did,' Ethan frowned, 'How did you know that?'

It was Mark's turn to shrug, 'I read your file.'

Ethan tilted his head, curious. He had a _file_? He didn't know he was important or relevant enough for that. 'Oh really? What did it say?'

'Well,' Mark began, taking a sip of his drink and looking at Ethan amusedly, 'It said that you were Ethan Mark Nestor-Darling, aged nineteen. Good name by the way.'

'Thanks.' Ethan muttered sarcastically, reaching out and stealing one of Mark's fries. He expected him to complain, or at least glare, but he didn't, instead pushing the packet into the middle so they could share.

'Ex-gymnast,' he continued, 'Which didn't surprise me too much, because I'd seen you absolutely _destroy_ that obstacle course.'

Ethan flushed a little as the teasing, glancing away. So he _had_ been watching. Back when Ethan thought Mark hated him- he wanted to ask whether that was true but didn't want to push it. He felt like they were in a good place at the moment, god _such_ a good place and he'd do anything to keep it there, however the vague treading-on-ice feeling remained underlying in the back of his head.

'I had years of training to complete it and you could get through the whole thing on your first try? Kind of unfair if you ask me,' he went on, feigning offence.

'Life's unfair. Get used to it.'

Mark chuckled, and Ethan's stomach fluttered- _with pride, nothing else_ \- his own lips twitching upwards.

'It said you were from Cape Elizabeth, Maine, and that you got in a little legal trouble. So you're a bit of a bad boy, huh?'

'Oh yeah,' Ethan smiled as he chewed on a fry, 'That's me. Bad to the bone baby.'

Mark rolled his eyes but looked amused anyway, finishing the last bite of his burger before leaning back in his seat, 'And then it said you were recruited by the CIA.'

Ethan scoffed, ' _Recruited_ is a strong word.'

'Oh?' Mark asked, arching an eyebrow.

'Well they offered me a job with them or jail time, and I just don't think I would have fit in that well in prison.'

'So they kind of forced your hand? They tend to do that a lot.'

Ethan studied him, curious, 'Care to elaborate?'

'Well I got _recruited_ through this program I was advised to join,' he said, accentuating his words with air quotations, 'It seemed pretty legit and, well, I was sixteen so I didn't really know any better. It was only when we got our qualifications that we realised something was up. They were practically worthless anywhere else- so it was a job in the government or go back to college for another two years.'

'That sucks.' Ethan didn't really know what to say, and _that sucks_ wasn't much of a response but Mark gave him a grateful smile nonetheless.

'It's fine really, could have been worse.'

It fell silent, Ethan finishing his coffee before speaking up again. 'What would you have done if, y'know, you weren't...' he trailed off.

'A spy?' Mark answered, smiling because yeah, it sounded kind of weird when you said it out loud, 'I dunno really, I never thought about it too much. I liked physics though. And maths. What about you?'

'Oh, well I never really... _excelled_ at any of my school subjects, but I wanted to go into media. Like, filming and stuff.'

Mark nodded, considering. 'I could see you doing that.'

'Yeah, well, I guess not now.' Ethan gave him a sad smile. At least he understood what he was feeling.

Mark's eyes flitted over his face, and Ethan couldn't tell what he was thinking, feeling nervous for a second before Mark was standing up, clearing up the cups and packets on their table, saying something about how they should get to their gate but Ethan felt distracted, his mind taking a moment to click back into place.

-

It was quiet, but it was not peaceful. The plane was dark, side windows closed for the night and the aisle lights illuminating the floor. The seats were larger than he was used to, perks of business class he guessed, and for once his legs could stretch out rather than being pressed into the seat in front.

He shivered slightly, the breeze from the air conditioning hitting his bare arms, and he pressed slightly closer to where Mark's arm was against his on the shared armrest that separated their seats, and the warmth radiating off of him. He was asleep, at least it looked like it, but Ethan didn't want to stare too long just in case, head tilted back and resting on the seat, chest rising and falling softly. Ethan wished he could be the same but his mind refused to relax, perpetually stuck in a loop of unease and just general _overthinking._ Plus, he was on a plane, and he hated planes.

He wondered whether anyone else was awake, because even the token crying baby had gone silent for the past hour, and he was almost tempted to get up, walk around a little, take a tour of the sea of sleeping faces, almost _zombie-like,_ and unnaturally so. They were hurtling through the sky at hundreds of miles per hour and yet everything was dead still.

He felt something brush past him and he looked up into the aisle to see a woman treading down it softly, hand touching the top of each headrest to steady herself. A figure appeared from behind the curtain at the end, holding it open for her and nodding as she passed. As his eyes adjusted he could make out the flight attendants uniform, eyes flickering upwards to the man's eyes which were already trained on him.

His breath hitched in his throat as he recognised them immediately, mind flashing back to earlier that day in the airport, the man who had looked at him in a way that Ethan hadn't quite felt right about, but had brushed off nonetheless. Now, his heart was racing as his gaze lingered, unsettling, before he too disappeared behind the curtain.

'Mark.' He whispered harshly, shaking his arm, 'Mark c'mon.'

The man blinked his eyes open, looking over but Ethan was already out of his seat, tugging Mark's arm to get him out of his, pulling him down the aisle before pushing him into the toilet, flicking the lock closed and hoping that no one had seen them both go in.

Mark rubbed his eye sleepily, 'What is it? You wanna join the mile high club or something?'

Ethan felt his face go hot, too stressed for the joke to land properly, 'Mark, I'm serious, something's wrong.'

He kept his voice low, painfully aware of the paper-thin walls and deafening silence that seemed to fill the rest of the plane. They were close enough that Ethan had to tilt his head up just a fraction to look him in the eye, heart thudding in his ears as Mark's eyes searched his own.

'What?' He murmured and Ethan could almost feel the vibration in his chest.

'The guy. On the plane. I saw him before, at the airport and he was taking a photo of me I think, us, and now he's here, but he's dressed as a flight attendant and he looked at me really weird and I think something's wrong.' The words came tumbling out of his mouth faster than he could string them together but Mark seemed to understand.

'Wait, earlier today? Why didn't you tell me?'

'I don't know, I thought I was being paranoid or something.'

Mark rubbed the bridge of his nose, 'God Eth, you need to tell me this stuff. Even if you think it's probably nothing, okay?'

Ethan nodded, 'Yeah, okay, sorry.'

'It's fine, don't worry, just in the future. Where was he?'

'He- he was at the end of the aisle, and there was this woman too, they went into the front area-'

'Ok let's go.'

'Wait-' Ethan reached out and grabbed his wrist, stopping him from unlocking the door, 'I-I'm not sure. What if I'm just making it up or something? At the airport he might have not changed into his uniform and was cleaning his phone or maybe it's not the same guy, I was kind of stressed so my mind might have just filled in the details y'know?'

'S'fine. It might be nothing but it's better to check, yeah?'

Ethan hesitated, but nodded, letting go of his wrist. 'Yeah, ok. Be careful.'

He paused, hand halting on the lock. 'I will. You too.'

Mark slipped out, Ethan following, their footsteps somewhat muted by the carpeted floor, making towards the front of the plane.

The moment they entered Ethan's suspicions were confirmed. Something about the way they both were standing, the way the woman's head whipped around, her eyes flickering with recognition as Ethan looked at the face of someone he'd never met. And for that moment, everything seemed to freeze. _Everyone_ seemed to freeze.

It would almost be funny if weren't for the glint of malice in her eye, the promise of danger in her smile- else it would seem like some sort of mixup or miscommunication, both parties standing a good few feet away and neither making a move to do anything else, for a moment, but there was no uncertainty, no _miscommunication_ when she began to reach inside her inner pocket.

Ethan lunged, instinctively, and that's what seemed to set everything off.

His fingers locked around her wrist in a death grip, and he barely had time to register the flicker of metal before he was ducking, almost hearing the blade cut through the air where his head had been mere seconds ago. His arm followed the motion, feeling as though it had been ripped out its socket with the force behind it and he let go without thinking, stumbling into the wall.

She reared her arm back to take another swing but then Mark was behind her, stopping her arm in the motion and smashing it against the wall, knife falling to the ground with a dull thud. Ethan barely had a breath to recover because the guy Mark had seemingly discarded on the floor had a knee underneath him, pushing himself up to standing. 

He was fast, hooking his foot around Ethan's ankle and yanking it out from underneath him, sending him toppling backwards, but with reflexes he didn't know he had Ethan caught himself on his hand, obviously springing back up faster than the guy was expecting because he made no resistance as Ethan planted his hands on either side of his neck, biting his tongue accidentally in his determination to pull him down, connecting his knee to his face.

It seemed to work, just as Noah had said it would, the man slumping forward as Ethan backed up, honing in on the last remaining threat, who currently stood between him and Mark, unaware of her friend/accomplice lying unconscious a few feet behind her, completely oblivious to the now hands-free Ethan standing behind her as well as she lunged into another attack on Mark. Panicking, he spotted the knife on the floor, glimmering like some forbidden fruit but his eyes quickly flickered away, landing on a fire extinguisher hung on the wall.

God knows he had no clue how to use it in case of an actual fire, but it would do the job.

She had her arm to Mark's throat as he stepped up behind her, the metal body making an almost comical clunk as it struck her head, sending her collapsing into a heap on the ground.

'Thanks,' Mark breathed out, panting.

Ethan gave him a relieved smile, 'No problem.'

It felt like a scene right out of a movie, when the baffled flight attendant came to inspect the racket they must have been making and Mark flashed her his badge, smoothly delivering the 'MI5' like this suave spy-shit was what he did on the daily. Ethan held back a snicker.

The pilot had to deliver a reassuring message to the rest of the- mostly half-asleep passengers- the majority who hadn't even heard a peep through their earplugs, thankfully. Aeroplane staff rushed around them, busy with breakfast to be served soon and also a few in disbelief that they'd been on a flight with some secret-service business going down, but after a quick call to Tyler, the both of them weren't left with much to do, except for babysitting the pair of unconscious strangers who'd just taken an attempt on their lives.

Mark stepped up to him and reached down, taking his hand. Only now did he notice the split in one of his knuckles, wincing as Mark's thumb brushed over it. It stung slightly, but was quickly drying up, most likely a knick from the weapon that sat at their feet, but not a deep one at that.

Mark must have been satisfied with his examination because his gaze moved from the hand up to him, dropping it but not moving away. He was thinking, Ethan knew that, but he didn't know _what._ He often couldn't tell _what_ , and it bugged him- he'd always been one for reading people but Mark was different. He felt unreadable, unfamiliar, yet _connected_ -like a name on the tip of your tongue or the streets and pathways of your hometown, something Ethan could draw from memory and see in his sleep. Even the concept of the feeling had the same quality to it, swimming around in his brain like a fish he couldn't catch.

For a second his eyes dropped to his mouth, and Ethan was about to lift a hand, feel to see if he had a cut there too but Mark was stepping away and Ethan had to stop himself from following, resisting the pull towards comfort on a plane full of strangers. Magnetic, almost.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter was late, I'm busier than I thought I would be in the holidays! I hope everyone is doing well and having a good Summer/whatever season it is where you are :)  
> Let me know your thoughts on this chapter, personally I wasn't a fan of the start (I just don't think the writing was that great, I had a little writers block on that part), and constructive criticism or just general nice comments are always appreciated <3 I say it a lot but it makes my day reading them. Thank you for reading!


	9. Sean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is so late, hopefully this long ass chapter makes up for it!

Tyler's voice crackled through the speaker on Mark's phone, slightly muffled by the covers of the bed Ethan was sat cross-legged on, leaning back on his hands. Mark sat opposite, legs swung over the side to keep his shoes off, which unlike Ethan's had remained on his feet rather than being kicked off and flung across the floor the moment they had entered the room. He could even spot one of them poking out from underneath the desk, knowing he'd probably have to take it back to Ethan's room later given the man's tendency to walk around the hotel in just his socks- the assumption based on what he'd seen since their arrival last night, anyway.

He was so used to living on his own- he guessed they both were- that it didn't even bother him that much. It was nice, as much as he hated to admit it, having someone there. Going home to an empty flat didn't feel as lonely when he knew that in the morning he'd go into work and see Ethan. _Talk_ to Ethan. Before him, he hadn't really held a proper conversation with someone since... well, it had been a good few months at least. And now- for the next week or two anyway- he wouldn't be facing the same empty apartment every night; sure, an empty hotel room wasn't that different, but at least it was a change of scene.

Things weren't _all_ good though, because life never seemed to work like that. In his case however, it seemed that anything good just led to him feeling worse. Guilty. Undeserving of any possible positive feeling because even after months of moping, locking himself in his flat, not daring to feel happy for more than a single second, he still felt as though he hadn't done enough. No amount of suffering could ever pay the price of his friend's life.

Every smile he broke into faltered, eventually. Every time he laughed he felt a sick heat at the back of his throat, a shame that burned his skin, and a lump in his chest that felt so tangible he could almost rip it right out. And through all the guilt, repressed anger, all the blame and responsibility he pinned himself down with, the sheer absence was what hollowed him out, more than anything else.

He missed him. _So_ fucking much. But that was too much to get into.

He felt sorry for anyone who had to deal with him, which, in the end, was just Ethan. Having to deal with some half-shell of a person, unreliable and inconsistent and completely unable to just... let go. Be fucking _normal_ for once. He knew was an asshole, that much was pretty clear, but it's not like he _wanted_ to be- he just gets so _frustrated_ at how everything can keep going, how nothing stopped, no mercy for how his life had so suddenly crumbled in a way that seemed irreparable, how no one cared about _anything._ Because the fucking indifference was worse than anything else.

But Ethan was different. He didn't make him frustrated, it was almost the opposite, and it wasn't something he was used to. Sure, life was still absolutely shit but Ethan made him feel like maybe the world wasn't so bad, that not everyone was gonna screw you over, climb over you and then thank you for your help. He wouldn't go so far as to call it faith in humanity, but it was pretty fucking close.

He looked over at him fondly, fiddling with a loose thread on the covers and listening intently to whatever inane bullshit Tyler was spewing out. 

_"We haven't been able to gather much information but based on previous interactions and our limited information on them we can assume they were there for you, rather than by coincidence. We were able to access the flight records and they had been booked a while ago, at the very least before ours, so we think whoever hired them was and is aware of our source, therefore we need to be careful. That means no-"_

Ethan frowned, leaning forward and tapping the mute button on the call as Tyler's voice continued to ramble on.

'So they were there for _us_? They were hired to kill us or something?'

Mark paused before he answered, stuck between honesty and reluctance. 'I can only assume so- they definitely knew who we were.'

_-and remember what I told you about staying on the grid. Don't make it harder for us to-_

'And he's just going to brush over that?'

'Yup.' It was funny how, after everything he must have seen Tyler say or do, the guy still had it in him to be surprised over something like this; like he hadn't learnt to assume the worst in people yet. And it was sad that Mark would have to watch that fade way.

'Dickhead,' he muttered, under his breath.

Mark chuckled, noticing the way Ethan couldn't help but smile back at him, his eyes twinkling slightly in the morning light that made it through the blinds. It was serene, almost.

_"-Hello? Ethan? Mark?"_

Ethan cursed, reaching out to unmute them, running a hand through his hair as he did. 'Sorry, could you repeat that last part? I think we cut out.'

Mark stifled a laugh.

_"'I asked whether you'd received it yet? I sent someone over to give you the resources you'd need for the next mission."_

'Uh, not yet,' Ethan replied, looking up at Mark for confirmation.

_"They should be over soon then. Louis will give you a call later to brief you for tonight. Now that we know other people know about this you have to be especially careful. Don't go anywhere conspicuous. Don't make a scene. Just... stay in your hotel rooms as much as you can, okay? We can't have you messing this up."_

He rolled his eyes. 'Wouldn't dream of it.'

_"Shut up Mark. I'm serious."_

There was a pause on the line, then a sigh.

_"I'll talk to you later."_

The phone beeped as the call disconnected.

'I think he likes us.' Mark commented.

They sat and talked in his room for a bit, before Mark went down to get them both some coffee. He returned, however, not just with two coffee cups but a black leather briefcase held in his other hand, using his elbow to open the door and push his way in.

'Look was waiting for us at reception. Tyler sure does love the cliches, huh.' He shot Ethan a smile, offering up the tray with the coffees, while setting the case down on the bed.

Ethan took a sip, making a face at the taste. 'Did you get any sugar?'

Mark sighed, 'You realise that there's already syrup in that? I'm worried about your health, man.'

Ethan ignored his comment, looking up at him expectantly. He stared him down for a second, considering, before he reluctantly reached into his pocket, taking out some sugar sachets and tossing them onto the bed.

Ethan broke into a smile, 'My _hero_.'

'You disgust me.'

'Whatever. Have fun with your old man juice.'

'Old man juice? This'll be you in four years, just you wait.'

Ethan pulled a disgusted face, 'I didn't realise personality diminished with age.'

'Watch your mouth.' He half-smiled, trying to seem at least a bit annoyed, taking a seat on the end of the bed, unlatching the briefcase lock and gently opening the lid. Ethan scooted closer so he could see, watching Mark pick up the piece of plastic at the top, eyes scanning over it.

'I think this is yours,' he mumbled, flipping it so that Ethan could see the little photo of himself in the corner, and his details filling out the rest of the card.

'Why would I need ID? Do you know where we're going?'

' _Fake_ ID,' Mark corrected, passing him the card, 'Your birthday's different. And by the looks of it, we're hitting the casino.' He pulled out what looked like a floorplan from underneath some of the clutter.

'I thought we were meant to be being inconspicuous?' 

'Even Tyler has a flair for the dramatic,' he said, pulling more out of the case, 'Look, we get earpieces. So we can listen to him all night.'

Ethan gave him a pained look, but he just laughed. 'I didn't bring anything, like, _casino_ worthy though.'

'S'fine, you can go get something today. Put it down as company expense and Tyler'll pay for it. That's what I always do. Oh wait...' he trailed off, rifling through everything he'd dumped on the bed, before holding up a card and smirking, 'You get a credit card to use while you're here. Yours wouldn't match your ID.'

'Tyler really thinks of everything, huh.'

'Yeah, but I'd assume your statement goes to him, so don't buy anything... you wouldn't want him to see.'

Ethan arched an eyebrow, 'So you're telling me I have the perfect chance to make him uncomfortable and I _shouldn't_ use it?'

'I take it back, then. A cucumber and some vaseline should do.'

Ethan almost choked on his own spit, looking at Mark in absolute shock, 'That is _not_ where my mind went.'

He laughed, 'You're too innocent then.'

-

The evening came faster than he expected, nervously exiting his room to go to the casino conveniently located downstairs, after Mark had texted him that he'd meet him there. He'd never really dressed up for something- he'd never had a graduation, or a prom- and the tightness of the tie around his neck and the sharp click of his shoes on the tiled floor was foreign and unfamiliar. It was almost ironic, how every new experience just reminded him of how much he hadn't done, how much he'd had ripped away from him by circumstances out of his control. Once again he was left feeling like he was living a movie more than a life, everything scripted and planned and no choice of his ever seemed to make any difference. That was when he was given a choice at all.

His hands fidgeted at his side, tapping his leg restlessly as the elevator doors opened and suddenly there was swarms of people. Extravagant chandeliers hung from the ceiling, jarring against the flashing neon lights of the slot machines and obnoxious music. He forced himself to get through the crowd and get a seat at the bar, where things were a little quieter and he felt like he had space to breathe, his skin prickling with discomfort. He was nervous about tonight- big surprise- but it didn't make the tightness in his chest any less annoying.

'What's a cute guy like you doing here alone? Can I get you something to drink?'

Ethan looked up, surprised, and a bartender was grinning at him, cleaning a glass with the tea towel she was holding.

'Oh, no thanks. I'm waiting for someone.'

'Aw, that's a shame. I'll leave you to it then,' she moved onto someone else calling her after shooting him a genuine smile, unfazed.

He watched her leave, slightly perplexed until he realised she probably thought he was waiting for a girlfriend or something, which made a lot of sense given his rather curt answer. He felt a little bad, but then again, it wasn't really the time or place to be chatting up bartenders. She was pretty though, he had to admit. He wasn't really the person, either- he couldn't remember the last time he'd purposely flirted with someone, or wanted to, for that matter. It seemed stressful, and too bold for something he'd ever do.

That left him sitting there, rather awkwardly, checking his phone every few minutes for a text from Mark until a "hey" from behind caught his attention.

He turned to find the man himself, smiling down at him and leaning his side against the bar.

He cleaned up rather well, Ethan thought, dark hair gelled back although still curling around his ears and neck, and over the crisp collar of his shirt, eyes reflecting the warmth from the low lighting, oranges and reds from above. He'd opted for the typical white shirt black suit combo, mixing things up with a white tie, and he looked- dare Ethan say it- _classic,_ add some sunglasses and he'd be the textbook definition of eye candy, straight out of a Hollywood movie. He wasn't sure whether it was just well-intentioned jealousy that caused his eyes to linger.

He blushed as Mark's eyes flickered over him in return, reaching forward in an action that seemed casual but to Ethan felt like anything but, brushing his fingers over the murky blue fabric of his sleeve before stopping at the cuff. 'This is nice, where'd you get it from?' He mumbled, glancing up at him in a way that made his stomach flip. _What the fuck was up with him?_

'Uh... Macy's,' he replied dumbly.

The light caught on his teeth softly as he smiled, eyes flickering with amusement, 'Buy anything else?'

Ethan shot him a warning look, knowing full well that Tyler and possibly other members of the team were listening in to their conversation. As innocent as it was at the moment, he couldn't guarantee the unlikeliness of Mark saying something stupid. Sure, he'd trust him with his life, but not to stay on Tyler's good side.

The man just looked amused, but bit his tongue anyway. 'Would you like something to drink?'

Ethan hesitated, considering. Without Noah and the others, he'd never really drank before, and never somewhere this fancy. He didn't even know what he could order, as a pint didn't seem like it'd be on the menu. He turned at the sound of a voice, before realising it was only Tyler in his ear.

_"Don't drink too much, both of you. We can't have you messing this one up."_

Mark sighed, and Ethan saw him adjust his earpiece for a second, but then didn't have time to react as Mark's hand was touching the side of his own face. Suddenly, he couldn't think properly, hyper-aware of the gentle brush of Mark's warm fingers against his skin, reaching behind his ear and he felt a soft _click_ before his hand was moving away- something that could probably be passed off as some sort of caress, a subtle action to hide what he was doing from the people around them- functional, nothing else but it left Ethan's breath caught in his throat.

'Did you just switch it off?' He kept his voice low, almost a whisper as he looked up at Mark in confusion.

The man only smirked, completely unaware, 'Yeah, Tyler hates it when we do that.'

'Won't we get in trouble?'

'Not too much if we just stick to the plan. We'll switch them back on when it's important. I mean, you can turn yours back on if you want, I just assumed he was annoying you as much as he was annoying me.'

'Yeah, he was.'

He felt Mark's eyes on him for a second before the man spoke, 'Don't worry, he'll still like you. He'll know it was my doing.'

Ethan smiled, teasing. 'You're a bad influence on me, Mr. Fischbach.'

He laughed, and god did Ethan love the sound. It felt... _safe,_ if he had to describe it. God, he was really fucking eager to please, wasn't he?

'As much as I hate to admit it,' he started looking off at the bartender who was chatting to a group on the other side, mixing a drink as she did, 'I think Tyler had a point.' He turned back to him, 'Have you ever drunk before?'

'Uh, yeah. Not much though.'

Mark hummed, 'We could always go out another time. Y'know, when we're... off duty. If you want.'

Ethan tried to hide his look of surprise. Maybe they were more friends than he thought. Hopefully. 'Yeah, yeah that sounds good.'

He nodded, the hint of a smile on his face, 'Good.'

Ethan smiled back, genuinely, and the moment lasted a little too long. Maybe it was the way Ethan still felt slightly jet-lagged from their flight, brain slow to react and getting caught up in itself. Maybe the flashing lights and electronic sounds sent a rush of excitement through him, leaving his eyes to linger wherever they landed. Or maybe it was the way Mark's eyes flickered with something, confusion perhaps, or disorientation, and certainly something else, something Ethan couldn't quite put a finger on but he swore he could feel it too.

And then Mark was clearing his throat, gaze slipping away and Ethan felt his mind clear a little.

'We should probably make the most of the time we have left before we have to listen to Tyler again.' He commented, glancing around the casino now, everything seemingly forgotten. Maybe it was just him.

'What did you have in mind?'

His eyes found their way back to Ethan's. 'Well, where do you stand on gambling?'

They found their way to the cashier booth, using Ethan's card to get a small handful of chips and _god_ they were so getting a mouthful from Tyler later, but it was worth it just to see Mark lose three games in a row.

'Are you sure you know how to play this?' Ethan teased, turning his head so he could whisper into Mark's ear.

Mark looked over at him, face close enough that Ethan could see the flecks of gold that broke up the honey-brown in his eyes, and he noticed that they were a lot less dark up-close- _something he could get used to-_ his own thoughts startling him a little.

'I'm beginning to question that myself,' he mumbled, and Ethan hummed in agreement. 'What do you think, should we bet on red or black next? If we lose we're out of chips.'

He looked around the table, at the beams and elated laughter, sharp suits and exquisite dresses. It was funny how they were all going to leave with their pockets a little less full than on entry, a fact known by every member at that table- but it was the _thrill_ , the flicker of hope every time the ball slotted into place, or the cards flipped over, the ghostly mirage of fortune that fueled the mind, the deep-rooted desire to have what no one else could seem to get, certainly not outside the beguiling casino walls- and it was a hefty price tag that came with the distraction. And it wasn't like he was any different, the addicting thud of his heart barely audible over the loud music, that sheer _rush_ that only came when you were truly and unashamedly happy, and had taken the risk to let go completely, if only for a short while. 

'I think red, definitely.'

'Again? Okay.' There was a flitter of something in Mark's eyes as he smiled back at him, an unspoken relief as he scanned his face quickly, taking the edge off some of the concerns he'd had after seeing Ethan a little less relaxed than he should be over the past few days. Ignoring the ticking clock until they'd have to switch on their earpieces on and get on with their job. 

He placed his bet, and Ethan holding back a laugh at his fake confidence, the dealer spinning the wheel before cheers were heard across the table.

'Did we win?' He asked, completely clueless as to how the game actually worked.

'Not quite,' Mark chuckled, 'We should probably deal with Tyler now though, it's nearing six.'

Ethan agreed, albeit reluctantly, and they found a quiet spot to take their lecture- which lasted a lot less long than it could have, since Tyler was more frustrated than angry, and had already given up on having the complete control over them he wanted. He let them go pretty quickly though, not wanting to add delays to their mission. Mark had just gone to get drinks- soda, at Tyler's insistence- when that mission actually kicked into gear.

His heart jolted when his earpiece crackled to life.

_"She's here."_

Immediately he was glancing around, looking through the crowd for a familiar face. When his eyes met Mark's he breathed a sigh of relief, subtly pushing people aside to move over to him. Weaving through, they both made it to the edge where it was less crowded, slipping through the door and into the side room, as per the plan.

When it wasn't being used as meetup spot for the transfer of sensitive information, Ethan assumed it must be for private or exclusive games, as a single, circular table lay in the centre, polished mahogany with plush chairs to match, the floor lush with carpet that was so unused it felt new, impossibly clean and unscathed by the scuffs of regular, cheap-people shoes.

The thick wooden doors did their job well, the cheers and blaring music from the main room drowned out and replaced with unnervingly soft classical music. They waited, watching the doors that did not move. The air was thick with anticipation but gradually died out as more and more time passed, allowing the rise of unease.

'Where is she?' Mark whispered, and Ethan wasn't sure who it was directed to.

And then, after a second; " _Sorry, change of plans. She's gone up to the rooftop."_

He shot Mark a confused look but they left the room anyway, rushing over to the elevators.

As soon as the doors closed, Ethan was turning to face him. 'The fuck was that? Why didn't she follow the plan?'

'I don't know, but something feels off. Tyler?'

_"I don't know either, but she's gone to the only place in the whole building where we don't have visuals so you'll both have to be careful."_

The doors opened before either of them could complain, the issue quickly forgotten as they started down the hall. The top floor was obviously still the hotel part of the building, walls lined with numbered doors but no sign of a way up.

_"There's a fire exit that leads up to the roof, from what I can tell that's the only way so we'll be able to keep a look out for you. It's on the corridor on the left. No, not your left, my left, your- there you go."_

'Over here,' he called, hearing Mark's footsteps get louder behind him. He pushed it open, hinges creaking with the effort, and through the darkness could make out a staircase going upwards. A slither of light splayed down from the top, the door there slightly ajar and moonlight from outside leaking in. Bingo.

He took them two at a time, overly aware of the rising sense of panic in his gut, the sense that things weren't going to go as smoothly as they'd hoped, mind spinning with possibilities of everything that could have gone wrong. Pausing before he went up, he heard Mark mumble a 'Be careful.'

Slightly out of breath from the stairs, he gave a swift nod, consciously not letting his gaze linger for too long, as he knew it would only make him more nervous.

The breeze was cold against his skin when he stepped out of the small structure that held the staircase, scanning what wasn't hidden behind silhouettes of pipes and crates.

An all too familiar click had him whipping around, hands raising instinctively as he looked down the barrel of a gun.

She was standing a few metres away, hidden by the side of the staircase they had come out from, glance nervously shifting between the two of them and gun gripped tightly in both of her hands. Her dress billowed in the wind, flowing red entrails that rippled in such a way she could almost be falling backwards, but she was still as stone. Her eyes were wide, and more than anything she looked scared, a deer in the headlights.

'Who are you?' She called, voice loud so as to not get drowned out by the wind.

Ethan blinked, hair flapping in his eyes as it was pushed around. 'Tyler sent us.'

Her gun lowered slightly, but not altogether. 'Prove it.'

Mark took a step forward, cautious, 'We were meant to meet you downstairs, in the E suite, but you went up here instead. Why did you come up here? What's going on?'

_"We have eyes on some people downstairs. Are you up there alone?"_

She watched them carefully, 'Is he talking to you now?'

Ethan nodded.

She hesitated, before dropping her arm, speaking with her voice more steady than before. 'I recognised some people. People who wouldn't want me talking to you. When I came in and saw them, I panicked and came up here.'

'Did they see you?'

'I'm not sure.'

_"They're entering the elevator, you need to hurry up. There's three of them, and if they know where you are they could be there in under two minutes."_

'We need to get out of here,' Mark affirmed, glancing around for possible exits.

_"You need to get her information first. That's the priority-"_

'No, we need to-'

A harsh gunshot rang throughout the rooftop. And then she was stumbling back from the impact, clutching her stomach.

Ethan rushed over, dropping to his knees beside her and pressing his hand over hers, over the wet and darkening fabric. It was warm, and he could feel her hand trembling.

'Shit, are you okay? Keep pressure, just-'

He heard Mark shout his name, hand coming down on his shoulder and trying to pry him away but he resisted, trying to lift her head up with his spare hand, vice getting desperate.

'Hey, stay conscious, I need you to stay conscious-'

_"Ask her what she knows. Quick, before it's too late-"_

Mark was shouting his name again, saying they'll shoot him too if he doesn't move but he didn't care, he just needed to keep pressure, keep her conscious, try and slow the bleeding because didn't any of them realise she was fucking dying? He needed to do this, otherwise she could die, otherwise they'd shoot her again and his hands were already covered in enough blood as it was and it was getting worse and-

He felt arms circle his waist, one up over his chest and pull him away, and he tried to twist out but Mark was not letting up, dragging him away from her.

'Mark stop, she needs help, they're gonna-'

'They're not going to shoot her,' Mark's voice was low, speaking straight into his ear from behind him, pressed against his back and Ethan would be lying if he said it didn't calm him down a little.

'If they wanted her dead they wouldn't be sending people up. Someone is sniping us and I can only assume they are reloading, so we need to take cover.'

Ethan didn't resist as Mark loosened his grip, giving a last hopeless glance to the girl laying on the ground, her eyes pleading with him, before another shot was heard, and this time his ears felt it as it cut through the air and it must have been only inches away.

They ducked behind the side of the staircase building and out of sight from the direction of the shots.

Ethan leaned against it, panting and trying to wrap his head around everything. When he glanced over at Mark the man was holding his shoulder, head tipped back against the wall, and his heart leaped into his throat.

 _Oh no. Oh god, no._ 'Did you..?'

'Just a graze, it's fine,' he assured, wincing slightly as he reached for his gun with his spare hand.

Ethan swallowed, overcome with the urge to stop and check he was okay but it didn't seem like the time. 'Shit, I'm sorry.'

'S'fine. We need to go.'

He followed Mark round the back, keeping cover wherever they could.

_'We've located the sniper in a building nearby. If you stay off the east side of the building you should be fine. We're working on getting security over there now"._

They froze at the sound of metal on metal, the doorway leading up flung open and smacking against the side. It was by no means a small roof, but the ratio was not in their favour, three new sets of footsteps sounding out. He pressed his back further into the cold metal pipe he had ducked behind, trying to quieten his breathing even though he knew it was pointless beneath the feral sounds of the wind.

The footsteps were getting closer and he looked around for somewhere to move to, realising he could no longer see Mark and feeling like a lost kid at a supermarket. Except this time the stakes were a lot higher. When the footsteps finally stopped it took him a second to register how royally fucked he was, and underneath the mask that covered most of the stranger's face he saw him smirk, about to call out to his friends, when something stopped him.

To be more specific; a blow to the back of the head, Mark catching him before he fell and lowering him to the ground quietly.

'Don't think I've used that one since training.' He muttered.

'Glad you didn't forget.'

They split up, Mark continuing round and Ethan going back to where they'd started, seeing if he could find and get their source back down into the hotel without anyone noticing, at Tyler's instruction.

She'd managed to pull herself out of the way, leaning up against a crate and there was no one around so he rushed over, making sure her hand remained firm on her stomach to stifle the bleeding.

'Hey, hey it's okay, we're gonna get you out of here okay? You're gonna be fine,' he whispered, not sure if it was more to calm himself as he completely blanked on what he was meant to do.

She looked up at him weakly, 'I- I need to tell you something.'

_"Is that her? We can't make out what she's saying, what did she tell you?"_

'Go ahead, I'm listening,' he said softly, his eyes searching hers.

She looked panicked, and he could tell the words were swimming around in her head. 'You- you need to- they'll hear me.'

Ethan glanced around, trying to make out moving shapes in the dark. 'There's no one here, it's just you and me, you can tell me.'

'No, if they hear they'll kill me. They can't hear.'

He just looked at her, confused, opening his mouth to speak.

_"Ethan what is she saying? Did she tell you-"_

'Sean!'

It was a name that was certainly not his but the voice alone had Ethan's head whipping around anyway, not taking long to see Mark stood beside one of the roof vents and he could see, _feel_ the second it must have dawned on him, what had slipped past his lips by complete accident, Ethan's own eyes wide as the man's expression shifted, completely and utterly unreadable and so much colder than he'd ever seen before- layers and layers of hurt shrouded by steel and it left a pit in his stomach, uneasy and heavy.

It was a split second before his gaze was torn away again, the thing Mark must have been trying to warn him about slamming into the side of his face with a force that left a splitting pain spanning out from his jaw. He recovered quickly, getting to his feet and retaliating against the masked threat, landing a couple jabs but being kept busy as gunshots sounded behind him. The sound filled him with a new kind of panic, having now lost sight of Mark, but it must have caught his attacker by surprise too as an opening was left, the perfect opportunity for Ethan to connect the heel of his palm to the base of their chin. He didn't even check that they were unconscious, ducking behind his nearest cover while his eyes searched the rooftop.

What he saw was not good, to put it mildly. Mark was on the floor and Ethan could spot his gun just metres away from him, but the one remaining person stood over him, her gun pointed directly at his head. She almost blended in with the night, black fabric blurring into the starless sky and making her silhouette difficult to discern, but her position was unmistakable. It was a shot no one could miss.

Ethan fumbled for his own, the click of it loading alerting her of his presence, and her head whipped around to face him.

'Don't shoot.' He tried to be firm but it came out shaky, his eyes unwavering from hers. His heart thudded in his ears and for a second all he could think was _she knew._ She knew that he had no fucking clue what he was doing, and he was so, so not prepared for this and that his finger was trembling where it lay on the trigger. She knew how his brain was racing trying to find ways out of this but coming up blank. She knew how pathetic he was, how he was too much of a coward to shoot, not even to stop her, not even to save his friend.

But it must not have been as clear as he thought. 'Put your gun down,' she said, voice wavering slightly.

_"What's going on? You can't leave without our source, got that? That's your priority."_

'Don't shoot,' he repeated, feeling Mark's eyes on him but he couldn't look away, didn't want to see who he was letting down.

She hesitated, but then moved her gun so it was no longer pointing at Mark, but instead the only other person on that rooftop.

'I don't want to but I will. Put your gun down.'

_"Who is she aiming at? We can't see you."_

Ethan couldn't think, brain just filled with _what do I do, what do I do,_ and not leaving any space for solutions. He looked at her helplessly, as if she'd suddenly turn around and decide against shooting anybody, and especially not the person Tyler seemed to care about more than his own agents. He let his gaze slip to Mark, unsure, but everyone remained silent.

'Put down your gun. I'm not going to ask again.'

_"Ethan, answer me. Who is she aiming at? That's an-"_

And then, a shot. Right between her eyes. Even then, Ethan didn't know how to react, his mind going fuzzy, frozen in place. Next thing he knew, the woman he had been aiming at was stumbling backwards, a wound to her shoulder rendering her not a threat- and it must have been Mark, picking up his gun in the distraction because it sure as hell wasn't him, the man finishing the job and knocking her out, everything over too quickly. Tyler was angry in their ears, asking again and again what had happened and getting more frustrated with each time, until Mark gave him his answer, short and to the point.

He didn't say anything after that. Ethan knew they had been disconnected completely because the faint drone he had gotten used to finally stopped. And then everything really was silent.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry if that was boring, I swear I didn't mean for it to come out that long! I hope you enjoyed it, I've spent so many hours on it and ik it's not my best lol. The next chapter is shorter so hopefully I can get that one out on time, but life has been busy (I say that every time aha but it's true). Anyway, hope you're all doing well and those of you back at school are okay :) Thank you so much for reading!


	10. Me Too

Even when other people came up to the roof it still felt too quiet. Tyler must have briefed them because they made no complaints as they began the clean-up job, dismissing the both of them. Mark didn't even look at him as he left. Ethan followed regardless, too scared to speak up as he trailed behind him, corridors seeming narrower than before because this felt all too familiar.

It was only when he stopped outside his room, digging out his key card that Ethan knew Mark had no intention of bringing anything up, planning on disappearing into his room and he was going to lose him, he was certain of it. And he couldn't let that happen, fuck he'd only really known him a few months but he couldn't imagine being back at square one, scared to even talk to him, and what if Mark never even gave him a second chance? What would he do then?

Never had anything so recent felt so long in the past, a reality so faded he'd do anything but fall back- that feeling of being so _alone_ , so unprepared for everything, so unsure of what he was even doing, what his future was going to look like. It's absence had become a crutch so fast Ethan didn't even remember it happening, didn't know whether he'd be able to hold everything together if it came back. It felt pathetic, but things were hard enough as they were.

'Mark, wait,' he pleaded, breaking his silence, but he was already slipping through the door, barely leaving enough time for Ethan to catch it before it closed.

He hesitated in the doorway as Mark sat on the edge of his bed, burying his head in his hands, and Ethan felt as if he was intruding- as if he shouldn't be seeing this- but he sure as hell wasn't going to leave now.

'Can we talk?'

'Not now,' He murmured, voice dismissive as he pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes.

Ethan took a breath, 'I just- I'm really sorry, I didn't-'

'I don't want to get mad at you, Ethan.' Mark cut in, 'Just leave.'

He could hear the frustration edging into his voice, and from his tone Ethan knew what he was angry about, and it wasn't failing the mission. He just didn't know whether he dared say it. It was something he'd felt guilty even thinking about; it felt too personal, too private. But now he felt as though if he didn't, it would go unsaid forever.

His voice fell so quiet it was almost a whisper, so soft it was almost unspoken, apprehensive. 'I'm not going to replace him.'

Mark was silent, dead silent, and Ethan took that as a sign to continue, 'I don't want to, and I'm not trying to. I can leave but I just want you to know that.'

He paused to let Mark reply and the wait felt as though it was swallowing him whole; even the wind that was rattling the windows seemed to settle, the buzz of traffic outside muted, as if waiting with him too. It that moment, it felt like nothing else mattered, as if everything outside that one hotel room, far from anything that could be considered home, the rest of the world, was blurry; playing in the background like sounds you couldn't make out underwater, and it should have been nothing but what else did he have? Where in the world would he even be if not here in this room? He just wished there was something he could do, a way up, a way _out_ of this cycle he found himself in but obviously that just wasn't the case. A breath passed his lips, a question forming on his tongue, but then it was gone.

It was useless. He went to leave but was stopped by Mark's voice.

'I never thought of you as that. A replacement.'

Ethan nodded, unsure what to say but then Mark was standing up, turning away slightly as he took of his jacket, 'Sorry for messing up the mission.'

He guessed they weren't going to talk any more about Sean then. He wanted to, but it was obvious Mark didn't, so he didn't push it.

'You didn't-' Ethan stopped short when Mark turned back around after hanging it up, white shirt stained red and torn on the upper part of his arm, 'Is your shoulder okay?'

Mark glanced down, as if he hadn't noticed, 'Oh, yeah it's fine. I should probably...'

'Let me.' Ethan stepped into the room finally, letting the door close behind him.

'No, really, it's fine I'll-'

'Where do you keep your first aid kit?' He interrupted, looking around the room. Mark sighed before taking a seat on the bed and untying his shoes, knowing it was useless to resist.

'It's still in my suitcase, over there.'

Ethan dug it out, taking a seat on the edge of the bed, Mark shifting his legs to give him more space and suddenly they were very close- why he always seemed to notice this when it was far too late to do anything about it, Ethan didn't know. He kept his eyes glued to the kit, unzipping it, but could feel Mark watching the side of his face.

'Is your jaw okay?'

He could still feel it throbbing- Mark could probably see a bruise forming there because the guy really didn't hold back when he punched him, but he just rolled his eyes, pushing Mark back so that he rested on the headboard.

'Off.' He said, nodding to Mark's shirt before digging around in the bag, pulling out what he'd need.

Mark opened his mouth, as if to make some sort of quip back but closed it again, unbuttoning his shirt instead.

Ethan took hold of the edge once he'd finished, gingerly peeling it off his shoulder.

He frowned at the laceration, around the length of his shortest finger and probably almost the width too, 'You shouldn't have just waved this off,' he muttered, looking back up at Mark.

'Well, we didn't really have the time to do anything about it.'

He was right, but it didn't help the pang in Ethan's gut. He swallowed thickly, 'I'm sorry for not listening to you.'

'S'fine, you were trying to do the right thing.'

Ethan gave a small smile, looking back up at him and his heart jolted in his chest, the familiar feeling that made him so nervous creeping in. It was dark outside, and under the incandescent light his eyes almost glowed, burning with an intensity that could set his skin on fire, and he almost couldn't look away. But, whilst feeling the warmth of where their legs were pressed together, he couldn't help but glance down at Mark's mouth, slightly parted. He had the urge to move closer still, and almost gave into it.

Clearing his throat, he quickly looked away. 'I need to go get something to clean this.' After a nod from Mark he stood, wandering into the bathroom and grabbing one of the hand towels, hoping the hotel wouldn't be too mad. _God_ he really needed to get some control over himself, he'd never acted like this around anyone before. Never thought things like this. And he didn't understand why. He washed his hands, and then wet it thoroughly under the tap, wringing it out before he carried it back in.

Remembering something Mark had said earlier he frowned, taking back his seat beside Mark, 'You didn't fail the mission though. If anything it was my fault.'

Gently, he brought the fabric up to his shoulder and dabbing as gently as he could.

'No, I messed up. After...' he trailed off awkwardly, watching Ethan's hands as they worked, 'I got frustrated, I was distracted and I was sloppy. She should have been easy to deal with if I wasn't... it was my fault you were in that situation in the first place. I'm sorry.'

'Don't blame yourself for that. You can't expect- you can't hold yourself to that high of a standard.'

Mark smiled halfheartedly, eyes flickering over his face before he looked away. 'Try telling that to Tyler.'

Ethan grimaced, 'Do you think we're in trouble?'

'I'd say so. He sounded pissed. I think it's just everything adding up, y'know? Even before you joined.'

He nodded, resting the towel beside them and picking up the tube of antiseptic. Dabbing a bit on his finger he brought it up to his shoulder. Mark's arm twitched painfully as it touched the wound.

'Sorry,' Ethan murmured, feeling kind of like he'd just trodden on a dog's tail, going even gentler than before.

Mark was quiet as he continued, but he could see the slight clench in his jaw, urging him to get the step over with. He tried to speed up, but didn't want to miss a spot- lead to an infection or something, plus his hands were a little shaky; remnants of adrenaline from earlier and probably not helped by Mark watching his every move. His gaze was soft, yet somehow it still made him nervous, landing on him for a few seconds before shifting away to the wall, the bed sheets, his hands. Anywhere else, it seemed.

Double-checking his work, he screwed the cap back on the tube, getting to work on cutting a reasonably-sized patch of gauze.

'I'm sorry if I seem controlling or anything,' Mark stated, suddenly. Ethan glanced up at him. 'I don't mean to- well, I don't really want to I just... I've had bad experiences with missions going wrong in the past y'know, and...' he trailed off, looking down to find his words for a second before his eyes were back on Ethan's.

'I just- I feel responsible for you.' His voice was low, quiet as he looked into Ethan's eyes, 'I know you're not a kid, or someone who needs looking after, I just- I don't know. When you get hurt I feel responsible, like I wasn't good enough to stop it or something.'

'That's... kinda sweet,' he said quietly, teasing but with an unmistakable genuineness behind it.

'Shut up,' he muttered, tilting his head back to rest on the wall, eyes closed. Ethan smiling amusedly at the way his cheeks tinged pink. It was cute.

'Seriously though, don't go so hard on yourself. You're a good partner. Really good. I'm glad-' Ethan paused, unsure, scanning the side of his face. 'I'm glad we were put together.'

When Mark didn't reply Ethan felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. He should have known, shouldn't have assumed that Mark felt less indifferent to him than anyone else- it had only been a few months, so he didn't really know what he expected. Plus he'd just lost his best friend, and Ethan couldn't even expect to compare. Why did he even think Mark would like him anyway? What made him so special compared to literally anyone else? If anything, it was less likely. He'd set _himself_ up for disappointment, really.

He looked away, embarrassed, finishing up cutting the gauze. He positioned it over his shoulder, getting out the medical tape. Suddenly he couldn't wait to go back to his room and just take a nap.

'Me too,' He heard Mark mumble, and if it were any quieter he didn't think he would have heard. He couldn't help the small smile that tugged at his lips. Maybe things would be okay, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ik this is kind of a short chapter, but that's what it was in my plan and I didn't want to combine it with the next one because then it'd be too long and really late- I worked really hard to get this one out on time because I felt bad about how late the last one was aha. I really hoped you enjoyed this chapter, it was nice to be able to write a chill one rather than having loads going on, because they can be quite hard! Anyway, hope you are all doing well and staying safe <3


	11. Prove it

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning there is 1 (one) homophobic slur in this chapter (it's used briefly as a flashback kind of thing), thought I'd let you know :)

Ethan hesitated outside Mark's door for a second before knocking. He shifted his weight onto the other foot, spare hand running through his hair as the other held his water bottle and room key, perking up slightly when the door swung open.

'Hey,' Mark stated simply, a smile forming on his face.

'Hi, ' he replied, rolling his ankle over his foot distractedly as he took in his swim shorts and gym shirt. His hair was a mess, ruffled from sleep and sticking up slightly- from tossing and turning to relieve his sore shoulder, Ethan would imagine. 'You ready?'

The man seemed to startle in the slightest, 'Oh, yeah.' He turned around, holding the door open with his foot as he reached out and grabbed his keys from the side table, 'Let's go.'

The night prior Ethan had stayed over and they'd watched a movie before chatting for a while, deciding to go to the gym the next morning to make the most of their time there before they flew out in a couple days, and also to stay on Noah's good side. It had been under a week, but Ethan knew the guy would be checking the moment they got back, and it wasn't like they'd heard anything from Tyler so they might as well make the most of the hotel facilities whilst they could. As Mark stepped out into the hallway Ethan caught a glimpse of his room, scarily clean and devoid of the scatter of clothes that Ethan's had, bar a pair of his own shoes he spotted by the bed. He made a mental note to pick them up later.

After locking the door they made their way down to the gym, completely deserted- probably due to the hangovers he'd seen people incurring at the bar last night- and pretty flashy if he did say so himself. Some of the machines loaded with weights and straps he'd never even seen in the massive gym back... home? Was that what it was? England? Ethan didn't know.

'So, do you wanna start with cardio?' Mark asked, scratching the back of his neck, 'Do you usually run or...'

'I don't really mind.' He replied meekly, suddenly nervous remembering all the times he'd- not so much _spied_ on but seen Mark in the gym and bolted in the other direction, or at least waited patiently for him to leave. Working out was not so much a solitary activity, but something he never really did or was keen to do around anything else. Like peeing, except, not really. The similarities stopped pretty soon for that one.

It's just, after last night he was a little more on-edge than usual.

Nothing happened, of course, nothing outside his misbehaving brain, that was, the one that he wished he could turn off, sometimes. He just couldn't explain why his gaze always seemed to linger on the man, a little longer than what seemed friendly, or the way he'd blush whenever they got close. Or how, when he'd closed his eyes for a second- propped up on the bed with Mark only inches away from him, movie long forgotten- he'd imagined Mark's lips on his. Soft, but smouldering.

The thought was pushed out of his mind almost immediately, face heating up to a hundred degrees- not sure whether he was more flustered about thinking the thought or the thought itself. It never should have come into his head, it was embarrassing and _shameful_ \- the guy was sitting right next to him for fuck's sake, and it wasn't the least intrusive thought someone could have _and_ \- for the cherry on top- he was straight. Or he had thought he was. _No_ , he was, he had to be. It must have just been some anomaly.

Except, he'd never felt like this about anyone. He'd had a girlfriend in high school, something that'd made him feel normal, something that had stopped the less-nice boys as his school from calling him a faggot when he missed school for a gymnastics competition. They'd often just sit and chat, hang out at parties or lunchtimes or occasionally make out on the bandstands but neither of them made much more effort than that- it was very casual. He'd thought that counted, that it would be enough to negate any thoughts that the shameful words flung at him in hallways had no ring of truth about them. But no one had had ever made his heart stutter from a look alone, skin electric at a touch, mind lighting up like a city after dark when he so much as thought about him, something that seemed to be happening at an alarming frequency these days.

He gave Mark a weak smile, pushing his thoughts aside. 'Running's fine.'

They moved over to the treadmills, Ethan clipping on the safety to the bottom of his top and plugging his earphones into his ears. It was fine. He could figure everything out, just maybe not right now.

-

He was hit by the smell of chlorine when they stepped into the natatorium, the humidity in the air clinging to his skin like wet clothes and spilling into his ears along with the soft drone of the pool filter. It was relatively large- probably about half-length, if he were to guess, with a couple lanes sectioned off by barriers A few empty deck chairs lined the sides.

Mark had set his stuff down and was peeling his shirt off, and at first Ethan turned away, but then couldn't help but peek when the man's back was turned, eyes roaming despite his internal monologue screaming at him. It was when he turned back that Ethan blushed, eyes lingering on the patch of inked skin that peeked out above his waistband.

'You have a tattoo?' He asked, hoping it'd explain the staring, but to be fair, how could you _not_ stare at that.

'Yeah.' Mark looked down at his side, pulling the elastic down just slightly so that Ethan could see the whole thing. It must have been no bigger than the palm of his hand, and now he was focusing he could tell it was a scorpion- poised tail barely tracing the edge of his hip, jet black spots texturising his skin, 'Got it when I turned eighteen.'

Ethan ignored the way his stomach flipped when the man glanced back up at him. 'Does it mean anything?'

'No, just looked cool.' Mark grinned, 'Wanted something that would piss off my parents if I'm honest. Would you ever get one?'

'Don't think I could choose what to get. Maybe though,' he shifted, fiddling with the drawstring on his shorts, 'Did it hurt?'

Mark shrugged, 'A little, I'd probably recommend somewhere else for your first time, but it wasn't that bad.' Ethan swallowed as Mark's gaze landed on his chest, arms, before falling, 'I've heard that uh, forearms or thighs are a good place to start,' he continued distractedly.

He perched on the edge of the chair behind him, hands checking the edges of the tape that covered his shoulder.

'How is it?' Ethan asked gently, taking a seat opposite.

'Should be fine,' he mumbled, seemingly satisfied with Ethan's work, 'Thanks. For, um... last night.'

He tucked his hands under his legs, knee bouncing restlessly, 'Yeah, no problem.'

He could tell Mark didn't want to get into it, and the fact that he brought it up to show his gratitude warmed Ethan a little, but still he didn't push it, figuring they could talk about the whole dealing with Tyler issue later.

The man cleared his throat, 'Yeah, should we...?'

'Yep.' Ethan replied, springing to his feet and stepping back to where he'd left his stuff.

His fingers clutched the hem of his shirt. It wasn't that he was out of shape or anything- hell, he was proud of how far his abs had come, all thanks to Noah- he just couldn't help feeling self conscious around that fucking walking statue, halfway towards naked in front of the very guy he was having not-so-straight thoughts about, turning away slightly as he pulled it over his head. _No big deal, right?_ He could feel Mark's eyes burning into his back- either that or him being paranoid- but he ignored it, walking up to the edge of the pool and dipping his toe in.

'Cold?' He heard from behind him, and then Mark was next to him, bare arm so close to brushing his.

He turned his head slightly, addressing Mark without looking at him, 'A little.'

Mark's hand moved, fast as a snake to reach the small of Ethan's back but for once his reflexes worked in his favour, grabbing Mark's wrist firmly and taking a step back from the ledge, twisting it so it was in front of him and watching as the man's face morphed from amusement to surprise as he stumbled, falling backwards into the pool gracelessly.

The splash echoed through the room, spraying water onto Ethan's legs. He chuckled as Mark resurfaced, blinking the water out his eyes as he pushed his hair off his face. The water was just shallow enough for Mark to be able to stand, his shoulders barely peeking out above the surface.

'I can't _believe_ you pushed me in,' He spoke incredulously, eyes flickering as he looked up at him.

'I can't believe _you tried_ to push me in,' Ethan retorted. He crouched so that he was closer to eye level, sitting himself on the ledge of the pool and gingerly submerging his lower legs, feeling the hairs on the backs of his legs and arms raise.

Mark waded over, slowed by the water. 'You're not gonna come in?'

'It's cold.' He complained, eyes widening slightly as the other man came right up to him, resting his arms over Ethan's lower thighs so that they were crossed over one another. He felt himself blush, leaning back on his hands because Mark was way too close, warm against Ethan's cold skin and making it way too easy just to lean forward into it in a way that sent his heart racing in his chest, addictingly terrifying.

'Wimp.' He muttered teasingly, and Ethan just about managed a half-laugh.

'I'm just adjusting to the temperature.'

The man raised an eyebrow in challenge, dark eyes filled with amusement as they flitted over Ethan's face. 'Can't swim?'

They both knew that wasn't true, Ethan still remembering the assessment he had to pass before he was even allowed out here.

He only glared back, a silence settling over the pool, only broken by the soft ripple of the water around them and _fuck_ before he knew it their eye contact was going on far too long but he found himself unable to look away, caught in the almost unbearable tension that twisted in his throat, and _surely_ Mark felt this too, felt the way his heart was pounding in his chest, breath trapped in his lungs- for a second, Ethan was certain he did- but then the man was stepping back, arms falling to his sides as he receded back into the pool.

'Prove it.'

Ethan must have looked confused for a second before remembering what they were talking about, folding his arms over himself and feeling his cold skin against his palms. 'How?'

'We'll race. To the end and back.'

'What do I get if I win?'

Mark gave him that lopsided smile that made his stomach flip, tilting his head to the side as he looked up at him, 'Bragging rights, obviously.'

'For being able to swim, what...' he trailed off, glancing down the length of the pool, 'Fifty metres?'

The man's eyes didn't waver from him, 'Sounds like something a loser would say.'

Ethan considered for a second, before breaking into a smile, rolling his eyes at Mark's competitiveness. 'Fine.'

He slipped in, ignoring the slight shudder at the temperature, following Mark to where he'd drifted over to the closer end of the pool. The water was shallower here, and the wet skin of his stomach and chest that was now exposed to the air tinged with cold, water droplets tickling his skin. He hooked his fingers over the ledge of the pool, one foot resting against the wall.

'Ready?' Mark asked, and _god_ Ethan couldn't wait to wipe the smug look off his face. He looked away, focusing on the pool ahead instead.

'3,2,1 go!' He rushed, kicking off the wall before Mark could even react, and he could almost feel the dirty look the man must be giving him- not turning back as to make the most of his completely fair headstart. He must have followed soon after, because Ethan could feel the water shifting near his feet, letting him know that Mark wasn't far behind.

He kept his eyes scrunched shut against the oncoming water, only opening them for a second to see up ahead, gauge the distance he had left to the wall.

He'd always liked swimming, but never had much time for it- loved the feeling that was almost like flying, the feeling of being in complete control. Whenever his family went on holiday, the summers where he was just a kid, he remembered rushing down to his grandparent's pool, or the local beach, sometimes with Spencer bounding along beside him. He remembered lying in the water, hours on end, often just floating on his back, watching the clouds gradually drift by like cotton candy, swirling round the tub at a carnival- and if he looked long enough it was almost as if he were the one moving, floating by whilst the clouds remained stock-still, the whole world frozen at his own imagination.

But this was different. A good different- he hadn't felt simple, childlike happiness in what felt like forever, and it was so freeing he could almost laugh- if it weren't for the water waiting to flood his lungs.

He flipped over himself, kicking the wall again to propel himself back to the start of the pool and he could see Mark in his peripheral doing the same, mere seconds behind. Swimming faster, he grinned to himself- he could win, if Mark still hadn't caught up, then he liked his chances.

That was, before he felt something circle his ankle. A hand, to be more specific. Water surged past him as he was pulled back, faster than he could react. He was not aware that _cheating_ was on the table. It only took him a second to regain himself, diving forward to catch Mark up. He reached further on his next stroke, managing to grasp Mark's slippery arm- his good arm- using it to pull himself forward. Mark resisted, trying to shake him off but he didn't let up, moving up to his shoulder and pushing him backwards.

Mark grinned, grabbing onto him and stopping him from getting away, trying to get the upper hand, but Ethan wasn't having it, trying not to kick him too hard as he fought him off. Eventually he pushed him back far enough to escape, lunging forward through the thick currents of water. It was shallow enough for him to half-walk half-swim, fighting to meet the end of the pool. Over his own splashing, he could hear water sloshing from behind, egging him to go faster.

He let out an embarrassing squeak as strong arms wrapped around his waist, catching him completely by surprise as he was pulled against Mark's chest, cheeks flaming up immediately. He was warm and Ethan couldn't think straight, and then his mouth was by his ear, water dripping from his nose onto Ethan's cheek.

'You're not winning that easy,' he whispered, tone flickering with mischief, but Ethan could barely hear over his own racing thoughts. And then his feet were no longer touching the tiled floor, his hands clinging onto Mark's to stop him from falling. He was lifted so that he could feel Mark's shoulder digging into his back, high enough for his legs to tuck in on instinct, before the grip around his waist disappeared and he was plummeting back into the water, completely in shock at how Mark had just fucking _flipped_ him over his shoulder like he weighed nothing. The water stung his skin as it connected, the sound of impact dissolving as his head was submerged underwater.

Bubbles swirled around his face, breath caught in his throat until he resurfaced, panting slightly and blinking away the water in his eyes. His skin tingled from where Mark had touched.

'Shit,' he breathed, heart thudding in his chest.

Mark chuckled, grin wide as he looked at Ethan fondly. 'You okay?'

'Yeah.' He managed, still flustered, 'Guess you won that one.'

'Fair and square,' he stated, grinning playfully, a glint to his eye that he had begun to notice more and more.

Ethan let out a huff of laughter, a soft smile on his face as he let his gaze rest on the man who could send his heart racing like nothing else. Whom he never wanted to leave. 'Totally.'

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Hope you enjoyed this chapter, things are getting a little more... pining-y? Especially in the next few chapters oops. Updates might get a little slower when I start school, since my uni application is due september/october time, but I will try keep them as frequent as possible, just warning in advance :) Thank you so much to the people who continue to support this fic, you're all so sweet and lovely <3


	12. A/N

Hi,

I didn't want to do this but unfortunately I'm going to have to take a break from writing for a bit. If you're interested I have some really important exams + my uni application due in the next couple of months and I need to focus on them- I don't have enough spare time for this on top of that. I'm really sorry; I know how annoying it is when authors stop halfway through a work but I don't plan on abandoning this one- I've already put so much time and effort into both the plan and the chapters I've posted that it would be such a waste if I didn't continue it given the chance.

I might write a bit here and there if I find the time but I don't want to post anything until I'm able to have a regular posting schedule again, I hope you guys understand. Thank you to everyone who has been reading this (esp lavenderdreamland and tiigi you two are so sweet), your support has genuinely meant so much to me since I wouldn't consider myself much of a writer but I hope to be back soon!

Stay safe everyone, and I hope the rest of the year treats you well x


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